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I LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

i 9-165 




^U^M^^dMurvct^, 



IN THE 

'l|ahniu of % (Erag 

(A STORY OF THE NORTH) 

AND OTHER POEMS 

BY 

MabH favUr f itts 




m^ 



SMITH-BROOKS PRESS 
DENVER 

1907 



-<15 



F BRAKY CONGRESS 
One VOL V rteceived 

I JUN 19 1907 

eOPY A. 



Copyright. 1907 

By MABEL PORTER PITTS 

All Rights Reserved 



©n onp wi)a kmnua Itnm many amtba 
anil trars arc {^ih brnrallT tl|p uiork. 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG 

A STORY OF THE NORTH 

AND OTHER POEMS 



CONTENTS. 

Page 
AWAKENING (THE) 20S 

"A DIGS" 134 

AN EPISODE 13S 

AN OLD LETTER CASE 209 

APOTHEGMS FOR THE IDLE 241 

AT SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO 94 

BARRIERS 250 

BESIDE THE BIER 150 

BURDEN (THE) 176 

BENEDICTION (THE) 128 

BLINDNESS 206 

BRIDGE (THE) 123 

BE KIND 110 

BENEDICTION 285 

CHILD OF NATURE (A) 253 

COMPANIONS 211 

CAROL (A) 189 

CALL OF THE LORELEI (THE) 283 

CARMEL 290 

DON'T WORRY 193 

DAY DREAM (A) 274 

DREAMS 162 

DREAMER (THE) 98 

DESECRATION 229 

ELUSIVE (THE) 267 

EARTH'S LESSON 87 

EARTH-CALL (THE) 90 

EARTH-LOVE 273 

FOR LOVE OF THE BURDEN 132 



CONTENTS. 

Page 
FINIS 245 

FALLACIES 260 

FEALTY 287 

GRANDEST THING (THE) 200 

GOLDEN GATE (THE) '. 234 

GALLEY SLAVE (THE) 249 

GREATER VICTORY (THE) 92 

GROPING 248 

"GIVE! GIVE!" 170 

GHOST CITY (THE) 281 

HIS' ANSWER 233 

HERE, AND THERE 262 

HOPE 139 

IN MEDITATION 105 

IN RETROSPECTION 192 

IF YOU HAD KNOWN 175 

I THANK THEE 213 

IN LOTUS LAND 153 

INEVITABLE (THE) 226 

IN MISSION DOLORES CHURCHYARD 236 

IN THE SHADY PLACES 255 

IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG 1 

JOHN BRADFORD'S PRAYER 178 

LOVE'S ENEMY 169 

LOVE'S VICTORY 188 

LOVE'S LAMENT 120 

LIFE 244 

LOVE'S RECOMPENSE 185 

LOVE'S S'PAN 149 

LIFE'S MIRAGE 254 

LOVERS" TR-irST (THE) 112 

LOVE'S ABERRATION 247 



CONTENTS. 

Page 
LOVE'S REIGN 218 

LOVE-PLAINT (THE) 93 

LIFE OF YESTERDAY (THE) 215 

LEST WE GRO^y TOO CONTENT 258 

LOVE'S FALLACIES ISO 

MAN'S LOVE 122 

MEDICI'S NEW YEAR (THE) 119 

MISER'S SONG (THE) 243 

MY PLEA 181 

MAN AND WOMAN OF IT (THE) 238 

MAN'S HERITAGE 124 

NEW YEAR BELL (THE) 217 

NEGLECTED LUTE (THE) 288 

ON THE LITTLE SANDY 173 

ON LAUREL HILL 121 

OF THE NANCY PRYNE 204 

ON THE TAMALPAIS ST^OPE 231 

PAST (THE) 157 

PHANTOM (THE) 137 

PICTURE (A) 182 

PRAYER (THE) 202 

PUNISHMENT (THE) 201 

PESSIMIST (THE) 195 

PASSING OF THE TIVOLI (THE) 129 

PENALTY (THE) 118 

POLE-SEEKERS (THE) 220 

PARADOX (A) 167 

"POETIC CHOIR" (THE) 257 

POPPY (THE) 146 

QUATRAINS 276 

RETROSPECTUS 1G3 

ROSE (THE) 144 



CONTENTS. 

Page 
RECOMPENSE 166 

ROAD OP A GREAT DESIRE (THE) 184 

ROSE OF MONTEREY (THE) 151 

REGENERATION 261 

SATIETY 106 

SATAN'S TOAST 127 

STAR (THE) 224 

SIREN (THE) 141 

SPANISH SERENADE (A) 168 

SUICIDE (THE) 135 

SPECTATOR (A) 265 

TO MANUELA 214 

TO MY PIPE 143 

TO-DAY'S ROYALIST 196 

TO JESSICA 154 

TO TOMBSTONE II 160 

THEN AS NOW SS 

TO THE OLD YEAR 251 

TO ETHEL 227 

TO MY BOOKS 186 

TO YOU 286 

TO MY MOTHER 279 

UNCERTAINTY 259 

VOICE OF SILENCE (THE) 125 

VOYAGERS (THE) 191 

VOICE OF NATURE (THE) 158 

WANTON (THE) 99 

WHICH DOES NOT MATTER TO YOU 155 

WITH LOVE AT YOUR SIDE 269 

WOMAN'S CONSTANCY (A) 101 

WHEN LOVE BETRAYS 96 

WOMAN'S DESTINY 270 



CONTENTS. 

Page 
WHEN CHRIST IS RISEN 223 

WHERE ALL IS VANITY 263 

WILL YOU RECALL ME? 239 

WHO PAYS? 164 

WITH YOU TO SHOW THE WAY 292 

WHAT KING? 145 

WATER SPRITE (THE) 103 

WHEN PASSES THE FLAME 172 

WITH NATURE 219 

WOMAN 198 

YESTERDAY (A) 109 

YOU WHO LOVE ME 272 




■ .!///(• oil mile /.v iiiiirhlif cur (lid urcr stretches hlcak and hare- 
Tlnis she /iiiils Ihe ixiimcrii that can cope against despair." 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



I. 



In a village in the Northland where the end- 
less wreaths of snow 

Smooth the ice-blocks' rugged edges choking' 
fast the Yukon's flow, 

W here the frost in form fantastic traces vines 

and flow'rs and lea\'es 
On the dwellings' low-browed windows half 

cnncealed beneath the eaves, 

Traces roses pale as ashes, roses cold and 

dead and gra}- 
As the 1)l()SSoms of a passion that the heart 

knew vesterdav. 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Lived a woman blest with beauty fair as blush 
of summer's dawn, 

Eyes akin to English bluebells that the dew- 
drops tremble on, 

Hair as tawny as the rush-grass limp l^eneath 

the sun's embrace, 
And each changing, new emotion adding glory 

to her face. 

Here she lived, her hopes, ambitions all but 
turned to sounding brass 

By the mock'ry of chimeras darkly shading- 
fortune's glass 

In the days of earnest seeking, when the thing- 
desired but seemed, 

And with stubborn will to follow where the 
light of metal gleamed. 

Hope will live within the bosom while the 

light of life endures. 
Men will follow blind, and eager, where the 

isnis fatuus lures. 



IN TME SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



And the suft"ring's of such marches, and the 

woes of such stampedes, 
And the pictures full with pathos where the 

soul of pity feeds, 

And heroic acts of mercy, not forgot though 

left untold, 
Pro\'e man's reason, only, bartered, that his 

heart is still unsold. 

There is that within our being", give it name 

the one who can. 
Shining God-like in man's pity and humanity 

to man. 

And the primal good, forgotten through the 

drift of human will, 
Stirs the soul, however crippled, to some 

memory of it still. 



Rumor comes on north wind blowing, vague, 

and wild, as rumor can, 
Of a storied El Dorado rich beyond the ken 

of man. 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Like a fever comes the rumor, sweeping bare 
the Httle town, 

Lea\ing naught l3Ut empty caljins, cold, be- 
neath the winter's frown; 

Cal)ins looming dark and cheerless, with their 

windows blank and dead 
As the sightless eyes of mortals when the 

spark of life is fled; 

Doors, left half ajar, are filling with the drift 
of falling snow. 

Bleak as though by man deserted half a cen- 
tury as^o. 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



II. 



Ah, the white-storm, velvet-footed, ah, the 

treacherous, the cold. 
Creeping, creeping to the bosom, there with 

taloned clutch to hold, 

Tricking with its soft embraces, kissing with 

its fateful breath, 
Loosing not its fascination till the heart lie 

hushed in death; 

Ah, the white-storm, ah, the cruel, settling 

close on brook and mound, 
Smoothing out the hollow places on the high, 

uneven ground, 

Masking hill and lake and river in its clinging 

cloak of white. 
And in sullen anger sweeping through the 

weirdness of the nip^ht ! 



IN THE SHADOW QF THE CRAG. 



On an upward pathway wending;, toiling pain- 
fully, and slow, 

Moving in uncertain fashion through the 
trackless waste of snow, 

Are a helpless man and woman, fighting hard 

for life and breath, 
All dismayed, for in the ice-wreaths they have 

seen the Silent Death ; 

They have seen his haggard features, they 
have watched his measured stride. 

And thev know that he is with them, walking 
silent at their side; 

If they falter, lo, they perish; if they pause, 

he claims his own. 
And they pray for help to heaven, for the 

world is turned to stone. 

Where is now the wish for riches, where the 

hope in earthly things, 
WHiere the music in the siren song the golden 

2'uinea sino-s? 



IN THE SHADOW OF THK CRAG. 

Lo. ambition's ileeting- \-isi(^n mocks the slowly 

glazing" eye 
And the world is sodden ashes when a man is 

marked to die. 



O'er the leaden sky comes flashing" slender 

spires of ghostly lig"ht 
Showing" where the white-storm's forces seek 

a bivouac for the night, 

Showing ontj^osts wheel and vanish with 
their conquering banners furled 

As if touched with sudden i^ity for a tortured, ■ 
helpless world. 

Through the \'oid come sounds of weeping, 

incoherent words, and wild, 
And the father presses roughly to his heart 

his weeping child ; 

"O. my daughter, well-beloved! O, my 

daughter, mine bereft ! 
"Angels guard thee, for in chaos thou hast no 

protector left. 



IN THE SHADOW O'F THE CRAG. 



"Rest thy head upon my bosom, let me feel 
thy hand in mine — 

"Daughter, seest thou the splendor of a dis- 
tant citv shine? 

"Heard'st thou nt^t that sweet voice utter 
words which thrill my weary breast. 

" 'Come to me, thy work is ended, come to 
me, for I am rest' ? 

"Fare thee well, my dear beloved, o'er rough 

seas we long' have sailed, 
"I have tried to make safe harbor, I have 

tried, and I have failed. 

"Though the night of death divide us, lost 
the way that we have trod, 

"Still I know that 'dawn will find us some- 
where 'neath the smile of God.' " 

O, the Northland, callous hearted, vast and 

cold and bleak and Ijare, 
How may prayers reach out to heaven from 

such desert of despair? 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Comes the voice that slowl}- faihng Ijegs in 

accents faint and low, 
"Sing the song we lo\e, my danghter, sing it 

once before I go; 



"Sing-, 'twin lielp ni}' trem1)hng s^Mrit find the 
Light tliat marks the g\)al — " 

Then from out the dark comes floating, "Jesus, 
lover of mv soul," 



And the night-bird stops to listen — "Let me 

to Thy bosom fly," 
Breath of north wind, strangely tempered, 

sighs o'er him about to die, 

And tlie song t(^ frenzied cry turns when his 

struggling soul has passed. 
"Father, to Thy ha\'en guide him, O, receive 

him Thine, at last." 

And the night is spent and weary, and the 

daw'n is near at hand. 
And a soul has left the lesson it could never 

understand. 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



But perhaps the tangled jjrohleni will one day 

be clearer shown 
When the man shall stand unhampered in the 

o'lorv of the throne. 



10 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



III. 



Tliroug'h the hoar frost crimson pennons of 

the dawn begin to show 
And the crystal ice-spars gHsten with an 

iridescent eiow. 



In far distant lands, and kinder, when the day 

begins to dawn. 
Comes a chirrup from the tree tops and an 

answer from the lawn, 

From some neighlioring branch's shelter goes 

a flutter and a cry 
And the matin song of Nature sweeps the 

gold-empurpled sky. 

All is motion, all is gladness, happy in return- 
ing light. 

Not the dead, oppressive stillness of this 
gleaming waste of white, 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Not this silence, hushed and Hfeless as the 

shadowed face of Fate, 
Brooding ever on the secret locked within its 

ice-bound gate; 

Here, no hills that call to meadows where cool, 

babbling rivers run, 
Here, no joyous cry of greeting from the 

children of the sun. 

Yet the horizon, dull tinted, shows faint mo- 
tion in the east, 

Signs of life that make the wildness seem in 
loneliness increased. 

Clear, and clearer, shows the outline 'gainst 

the stretch of yellow sky 
And tlie startled air rolls pulsing underneath 

the hunter's cry. 

Tokohoma, lithe and supple. Tokohoma, 

strong and brave. 
Lord of all these sullen acres, lord of land, 

of air, of wave, 



12 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Lord, l)y right of full possession, where no 

stranger forms intrude, 
lie, a chieftain, undisputed, reigns o'er realms 

of solitude. 



And he comes on fleet foot speeding over 

white, uncharted tracts. 
Storming, fearlessly, the ice-blocks in the 

frozen cataracts, 

Spurning drift on drift that, gleaming like 
great milestones bleak and cold, 

Mark the path of this new Hermes swift of 
foot as he of old. 

Now he pauses, stoops, and, seeming, ques- 
tions something that is dumb. 

Then darts back like winged arrow, back on 
way so lately come, 

And the startled white grouse Cjuestion the 

astonished face of dawn, 
"Where his course?" and, "What his mission?" 

Ere the answer, he is gone. 



13 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Gone, with doiiljt each hope defying, gone, 
with pain of anxious breath. 

Gone, (in wings of fear fast flying, racing 
with th.e phantom death; 

Muscles tense, and nostrils swelling, back, still 

back, each wdiite drift rolls, 
Tokohoma pressing closer to his heart the 

thing he holds. 

North, still north, till on his vision, lo, there 

falls a welcome sight. 
Rounded mound of snow-house glist'ning in 

its new found dome of white, 



Then, quick passes through its portal to the 

haven of his quest, 
\\'orn and wan, this Hermes, clasping still his 

burden to his breast; 

Burden strangely limp and lifeless, burden fair 

as shines the sun. 
Burden for which Tokohoma neck to neck 

with death has run. 



14 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



But the stretch is stih uncovered, still un- 
certain lies the g"<ial — 

Down upon his knees he drops, then, in his 
agony of soul, 

\\ ith his mind in dread commotion and his 

heart in frenzied storm 
While he tears the fur-lined wrappings from 

the unresisting- form ; 

First, his own skin coat of sable he had 

W' rapped about her there 
When he found her by her father, lost, within 

the storm-god's lair, 

Then complexities of garments that he does 

not understand, 
Frail and feminine, that perish underneath 

his unskilled hand, 

And the white arm lies before him in its still- 
ness of repose, 

And the tender throat as pulseless as is beauty 
in the snows. 



15 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



How he chafes her arms, her body, with no 

moment's pause for rest, 
How he turns his timid glances from the glory 

of her breast, 

How all hopes goes out and darkness of de- 
spair creeps in its place 

As he, l^reathless, seeks some evidence of life 
within her face, 

How he labors long and tireless till the thing 

he prays is done. 
Let the melting snow-drift tell you as it fades 

beneath the sun. 

Swift a tide of feeling sweeps him when slight 

sign of life returns. 
Giving place to new emotions where deep 

earnestness still burns, 

And his trem1)ling hand slow falters where 

so firm has been his touch 
Now that death is partly vancjuished and the 

foe has eased its clutch. 



IG 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



With the tenderness of woman he quick 

clothes the waking furm, 
Lavs it gently on heaped wolfskin, fox, and 

brown seal, soft and warm, 

Then withdraws a little distance resting pen- 
sive in his place. 

Looking with a deep emotion on the beauty 
of her face ; 



Through his l^rain whirl dreams, traditions, 

glints of fragmentary lore. 
Foolish fancies of his people scarcely credited 

before, 

But of Fate none dares to question, and the 

thing will be she wills. 
And a feeling strange and sacred Tokohoma's 

being thrills. 

"Have you come?" he softly murmurs, "Has 
the promise, then, been kept? 

"O, my queen, you near did perish, death so 
close to you had crept, 



17 



IN TPIE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



"I near lost you ere I found you, such the 

Hmit of man's pow'r, 
"Destiny he knows awaits him yet he cannot 

name the hour. 

"Have you come? Some import tells me the 
prophetic word was true, 

"And my soul to doubting Cjuestion ever an- 
swers, *lt is you.' 

"It is you, of whose vague coming- council 

gra}'beards ofttimes spoke, 
"It is you, whose sacred mission was to lift 

my people's yoke, 

"It is you, }Our way swung hither, as on orbit 

swings the star, 
"Queen for me, and for my people, scattered, 

lost and strayed afar ; 

"All are gone, the winds of heaven from the 
four ])oints breathe their name, 

"None is warrior, now, nor hunter, unmo- 
lested feed the game ; 



18 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



"They have sunk to trade, to barter, nor resent 

the \Yhite man's jibe, 
"And their chief, ashamed, self-exiled, stands 

a chief without a trilje. 

"You are come, }-()ur course appointed you 

are helpless in your fate, 
"You should be a cjueen of nations not a 

tribeless chieftain's mate, 

"You should look on deeds of valor and praise 
victories well won, 

"And review your fearless warriors number- 
less beneath the sun — 

"Yet you may not. It is written you are mine 

to have, to hold, 
"You will love me — so the graybeards spake 

in prophecy of old." 

Life returns, and comes prophetic, as it 
should, through troubled moan. 

And the face of Tokohoma like another face 
has orown ; 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



All emotions quickly conquered now in depth 

of shadow rest, 
In his look no trace of tumult that so lately 

swept his breast 

For the bird must not be "frighted though to 

flame his heart be fanned, 
Not until she cumes to love him can he make 

her understand. 



Doubt that she will love him henceforth will 

be foreign to his mind, 
He has questioned, and decided, question now 

is left behind 

And his heart, untamed and simple, wakens 

to one sole desire 
And in crucible of beauty, lo, is left there 

molten fire. 

Calm he stands, the strength of manhood 
marked in wild, unstudied grace 

And his dark eyes showing blacker 'gainst the 
fairness of his face. 



20 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



IV. 



There are times when lireath is bitter; there 

are times when Hfe is dust ; 
There are times the tortured soul cries out 

against the body's rust; 

There are times when adverse waters sweep 

Hfe's ship with fateful roar, 
When oblivion were better than to strand upon 

the shore. 

She who lies there scarce accredits that the 

fires of life still burn. 
Thoughts, in slow and halting fashion, back 

o'er snow-framed pictures turn, 

And vague mem'ry dawning clearer to a better 

sense of grief 
Wakes to find but keener anguish in its efforts 

for relief. 



21 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Tokohoma waits the turning of the quickening 

pulses' flow, 
Sees the Hps" and cheeks' gray pallor to faint 

shade of crimson grow, 

Watches dark-fringed eyelids quiver as they 

feel the life-tide rise 
And, at last, his soul meets, melting, that 

strange glory of her eyes. 

Kindness, nature's common language, speaks 

when helpless lips are dumh, 
Through it bahe and painted savage to sweet 

understanding come. 

Through it all the blighting stigma of a life 

may l)e en furled, 
Through it once a man was given to arouse a 

sleeping world. 

She divines this simple kindness that within 

his glances rest 
And a storm of bitter weeping sweeps the 

tumult of her breast. 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Naught she asks of how she came here, 
naught of question dimly Hghts 

Alind distraught that, heavy burdened, takes 
as yet but baking flights, 

'Tis enough a fellow creature sympathizes 

with despair, 
Anguish questions not of glances that the look 

of pity wear; 

Out to him her arms she holds then in impas- 
sioned wa}' and wild 

And he soothes her l)itter moaning as a father 
soothes his chiltl. 

Long she sobs till founts of anguish hold no 

more of tears to weep. 
Till exhaustion, mast'ring sorrow, }'ields it up 

to troubled sleep. 

/\nd she wakes to days of fever, wakes to 

nig-hts of l)itter pain, 
Only Tokohoma conscious of how long she 

thus has lain. 



23 



IX THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Only Tokohoma knowing how was watched 

each fitful l)reath, 
How was fought a second Ijattle with the 

dreaded wraith of death. 

How a second time he, victor, hid the joy of 

what he felt, 
And the great white silence, only, heard, "I 

thank Thee," as he knelt. 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG, 



V, 



i\s lieneath its woe of winter cold and sonil^re 

lies the earth. 
As the naked shrubs, like mortals, moan their 

d()ul)t of life's rebirth, 

As the rivers shroud their faces in their 

nidurning cloaks of snow 
So do human hearts, dull-burdened, "neath 

grief's winter, sunless grow. 

I'okohonna tries to lighten in these convales- 
cent days 

That faint smile, more sad than weeping, that 
upon her pale lip plays; 

Not unmoved by kind endeavor, though from 

grief no nearer wooed. 
She, to please him. smiles a little, such the 

sense of gratitude. 



25 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



After tempest comes the sunshine, after winter 

comes the spring, 
Not forever shall the mourning cry through 

sorrow's cavern ring; 



Tokohoma sees the roses on pale cheeks begin 

to glow. 
Sees faint hope, again transcendent, o'er the 

darkness radiance throw. 

In these (la}S he searches mem'ry for stray 

threads of useful art. 
In these da}-s the thing projected holds some 

impress of his heart. 

In these days the deerskin wrapping, thong of 

hide, and l)elt of fur 
Take strange tints of unguessed beauty, since 

he fashions them for her. 

Bv her couch he sits whole evenings, resting 

pensive hand on cheek. 
Joyous if she give commission, happy if she 

will l:)ut speak ; 



26 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Unreservedly she tells him of the vagrant 

hopes that start, 
Of desires long since relinquished that were 

wont to fret her heart. 

Thus he has small need to question of the 

things that he would learn, 
Thus her heart an open book is, and its leaves 

in sequence turn 

While he reads the l:)roken story of a life still 

young in years 
But deep bowed with age when looked at 

through its mist of blurring tears. 

These, the lines that touch her deepest, are 

the ones most often read 
Though the plans that lie transcribed there are 

reviewed as projects dead; 

As the moth with hurt wing flutters round the 

candle's dying beams, 
So does man forever hover near the wreckage 

of his dreams. 



27 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



In the trend of daily converse froth thoughts 

float hke ocean foam, 
And from beat of inward tnnudt rises oft the 

word of "Home." 

Home, that place of peace, of comfort, where 

the weary heart can rest. 
Home, that word which strikes vibrating on 

the gnarld strings of the breast ! 

Tokohoma vaguely gathers from her, now, 

repose of mind. 
That this cherished dream, like others, has 

been sadly left behind, 

And a surging thought sweeps o'er him, as 
o'er pine-tops sweeps the blast, 

Leaving him unsteady, swaying-, when the 
fevered thrill has past. 

Leaving him in deep emotion that is near akin 

to prayer 
And his brow full-flushed in beauty by the 

thouo-ht it shelters there. 



2S 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



When her strength is well recovered then he 

leaves her for a space. 
To return each night with myst'ry overspread- 

ino- all his face. 



To her questions of his absence he gives pre- 
text ever new 

And close guards each word lest inkling of 
his secret filter through. 

Dawning- suns see busy fingers shaping crude 

things into form, 
Flurried snow-flakes pause to cjuestion ere 

they merge within the storm, 

Help of hope in light transcendent seems to 

shine from gift above. 
All of toil is zephyr lightness when the task 

is that of love; 

And the day stands golden lettered in the 

shifting sands that run 
When, triumphant, Tokohoma views his 

heart's sreat labor done. 



29 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



O, the joy that sweeps the Northland, close 

to anguish deep allied, 
On that day when Tokohoma finds the frail 

one at his side 

Out among his Ijleak possessions, ringed afar 

by gleaming heights, 
Out beneath the changing weirdness of the 

restless northern lisfhts ; 



Through the dusk of noonday glitter discs 
of sih'er, touched with gold. 

\\niere the sun-dog"s pierce the hoar frost 
hanging sinister and cold; 

Naught so poignant or impressive here, where 

sovereign forces meet. 
As the sense of desolation that is crushing 

and complete. 

Soon, when nearer things are noticed, she a 

tin}' cabin sees. 
Outlined yonder near the snow-house "gainst 

a ground of distant trees ; 



30 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



There her instinct qnickl}' answers questions 
she has long repressed 

And a strange emotion iiutters, hke a weak- 
ness, in her breast. 

Tokohonia. watching mutely, tries her pur- 
pose to divine. 

Ere she turns and utters simply, "Let us 
enter. It is mine." 

Quietly she takes possession, cjuietly essays 

to speak. 
Burning rose and pallid lily alternating in her 

cheek, 

And as scattered sea-drift whispers of that 

wealth the w^ave conceals, 
So her kindly smile is index to the gratitude 

she feels. 



In no time of their abiding, strange, and in- 
timate, and fleet. 

Has the pulse of Tokohoma in such wanton 
fashion beat; 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



She, unconscious of his weakness, seeks new- 
won clers to extol. 

While he trembles lest his secret burst the 
bond of stern control. 

When the dearth of simple objects leaves no 

more to be admired, 
Down she sinks on rug of wolfskin like a 

child with laughter tired. 

Noting, still, her strange possessions, prais- 
ing, still, with ling'ring glance. 

Searching- close lest any treasure has been 
overlooked by chance, 

And when all but well decided as her eyes 

sweep walls and floor, 
Yonder sees some shining ol)ject she had let 

escape before. 

Quickly come to where it glistens, wdde of 

eye and hushed of breath. 
O'er her rounded cheek swift sw^eeping 

spreads a pallor gray as death. 



32 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



From its place she lifts a necklace, crude of 

worknianshii) and plan, 
Nuggets, linked in simple fashion, large and 

small, a circlet span, 

And her hesitating fing-ers o'er each rough- 
ened surface play 

While she questions Tokohoma in repressed 
and rapid way : 

How he came by their possession? What 
their story? Where their source? 

Looking- liack her way seems swung here 
by some strange and occult force. 



She, like every artless dreamer, hopeful for 

the thing long planned. 
Sees a fate in each occurrence that she fails 

to understand ; 

And she waits for confirmation of the thing 
already guessed. 

But his answer breathes evasion, clearly leav- 
ing much suppressed; 



33 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG, 



And he begs that she will tell him what the 

power is, ere he speaks, 
That so swift has changed the color of the 

damask of her cheeks; 

W licit the force is that for ages has not loosed 

its mystic hold 
On the heart that in the white man, lusts to 

clasp the yellow gold. 

And she answers, speaking softly in her 
earnestness of tone, 

Every word imbued with color from the sor- 
rows she has known : 

''Gold is talisman for evil, gold is happiness, 

is rest, 
"Gold is balm for every sorrow that assails 

the human breast. 



"Gold is guide for them that struggle in the 

sea of daily strife, 
"Gold is counselor, magician, gold is beauty, 

gold is life; 



34 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



"Gold is synonym for lionor, it is glory, it is 
fame, 

"Gold's a crutch for social cripples with ob- 
scurity of name, 

"Gold a trickster is, its palmings e'en the 

skeptical convince, 
"For its lack proclaims the peon, its abundance 

names the prince. 

"By it race, and caste, and teachings all are 

le\'eled in a breath ; 
"It makes equal slave and master as effectually 

as death, 

"And so full it taints and tinges all that fancy 

ma}' behold 
"That its power scales even heaven to bespeak 

the streets of gold; 

"In the sky the moon hangs golden, golden 

shines the sun above, 
"Gold is head, and heart, and feeling, gold is 

friendship, gold is love." 



35 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Seeing then that Tokohoma deeply on each 

word attends, 
She, in tone half grave, half jesting, that a 

lighter humor lends, 

Adds, "These Midas gifts, as fleeting as the 

breath that scents the rose. 
Are for thee, too, could men name thee Prince 

of Gold, thou Prince of Snows." 



86 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



VI. 



Like a great white sphinx the Northland lies 

implacable and dread ; 
Dull and gray the arch of heaven frowns, 

low-bending;, overhead ; 

Sullen snow-fields, void of luster, rest be- 
neath a pulseless sky. 

Stretch on stretch of space spreads empty, 
undisturbed by call or cry; 

Silence wraps the lake and river, silence 

shrouds the copse and hill, 
Sound is 'frighted by the silence and remains 

forever still ; 

What of life is here speeds noiseless, appre- 
hensive, and afraid, 

Ever fearful of some horror unaccountably 
delayed. 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Here is heard no soothing rustle from the 

leaves of swaying trees, 
Here is seen no dancing ripples spraying 

shores of inland seas, 

Here the mocking northlight flashes in a 

jagged arc of red. 
Here the earth lies wan and ghastly, to its 

sonl benumbed and dead ; 

Here the phantom dusk slow merges into 

weird, fantastic night, 
And a mighty hush low crouches on eternal 

beds of white. 

In the west rise towering mountains, by a 

river interlaced. 
\\diose approach is dragon guarded, tier on 

tier, by glistening waste; 

Rugged boulders, javelin-pointed, rise dis- 

puters of the way. 
Black abysses spread their pitfalls to entrap 

unwary prey ; 



38 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Precipices roughly threaten where had 

seemed an open path, 
Yawning- cliasms breathe the story of some 

deep, insatiate wrath, 

Noxious gases, slowly lifting, merge within 

the ruling frost. 
Deeply sprung" from such weird darkness 

that their origin is lost. 

On one towering- peak, that rises more for- 
bidding- than the rest. 

Is a giant crag" hung midway, sheer and dread, 
'twixt base and crest; 

Far above it walls of granite shimmer to a 

giddy height, 
Far beneath a cliff drops darkly into mystery 

and night. 

Here no mark of wandering" hoof-beat strays 

to scar the crusted snows, 
Here formidable defenses guard the great 

crag's bleak repose, 



39 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Here the wild, aggressive aspect softening- 
drifts cannot efface. 

And a heart inured to danger well may pause 
in such a place. 

To the rock there seems appended S(3me dis- 
cernible approach. 

Though great boulders mar its outline and 
though frozen streams encroach ; 

^>ars, long years, with brow dark beetling, 
it has scf)wled on hill and plain. 

Years, long years, its glooming shadow on 
the mountain's breast has lain. 



When the Spring unclasps the river from its 

long-locked icy sheath, 
Hien a second crag floats trembling in the 

waters far beneath, 

And the white-finned salmon darting where 

the depths of crystal gleam 
Shun the shade that wavers darkly as it falls 

athwart the stream. 



40 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



V eigne tradition wraps in shadow deeper still 

the jagged crest, 
And far ont npon the seacoast where the red 

sun gilds the west 

Lives a tale of huw a warrior bore the death 

he rightly won 
\Adi() designed to lead a paleface to the 

Great Crag of the Sun. 

One (kill dawn, before the ghost-light fades 

beneath advancing day. 
Over drifts that lie unbroken Tokokoma 

takes his wav ; 

North he speeds o'er rising uplands that de- 
flect toward the west. 

Where the Great Crag, hjoming darkly, stirs 
strange tumult in his breast; 

Many times its rugged outline he has traced 

against the sky. 
Many times its sober grandeur has compelled 

his heart and eve. 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Though familiar with its phases as it rises 

bleak and sheer. 
Yet he ne'er has braved its shadow but witli 

superstitious fear. 

Soon the plain is left behind him stretching 

far toward the east, 
And he turns tu face new hazards that each 

moment are increased. 

Cautiously he goes, and slowly, in the hush 

of bated breath. 
For who braves the Crag's dominions braves 

them hand in hand with death. 

Giant rocks nuist be surmounted, shad'wy 

chasms must be crossed. 
Shallow footholds forced in ice-blocks where 

the mountain streams have tossed, 

Spines of jagged rock are pathways swung 

between the earth and sky, 
Where his heart must lieat courageous if he 

have no wish to die. 



42 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Here he skirts a ledge, long ri\-en by the 

force of some past shock, 
Where He fossil ferns embedded in the strata 

of the rock; 

Here is shunned a pit smooth-crusted by its 

overhanging drifts 
Fairy edged in feathery hoar frost trembling 

lightly in the rifts. 

Where this hssure yawns abysmal to a depth 

of fearful gloom 
Is the spot the redskin traitor met the horror 

of his doom. 



Tokohoma nears its darkness. He must leap 

it. It is done. 
And he sinks fatigued and breathless at the 

Great Crae of the Sun. 



Here he rests till day comes bursting o'er 

the i)lain in angry red. 
Till the lurid light beats fiercely on the rock 

swuno- overhead. 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Then he rises, stands a moment, hke a sinner 

nnconfessed, 
Who, enamored of his weakness, cannot 

pluck it from his breast. 

And with glances strangely solemn watches 

shadows change and lift 
To disclose beneath the Great Crag, in the 

ledge, a narrow rift 

With a \'aulted arcli beyond it stretching back- 
ward into gloom, 

W^rapped in dread and heavy silence like the 
hush within a tomb. 

Here he enters, recent struggle marked in lines 

upon his face 
Set in stolid resolution no conviction may dis- 

place, 

In a calm of deadened feelings, like a swimmer. 

cramped and numlx 
Who sinks passive 'neath the waters he has 

failed to overcome. 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Scarce his eyes become accustomed to the 

cavern's lesser Hg'ht 
Than his shig'gish fancy quickens to one 

sweeping, backward flight ; 

Sacred pledges, oaths, traditions, crowd the 

cave's forbidden door, 
But the pictures are unwelcome, he resolves 

to look no more. 

And he turns where broken stratum, virgin 

vein, and glist'ning bed 
Show the velvet yellow changing to a fierce 

and sullen red 



'Neath a shaft of sunlight piercing like a 

knife-blade keen and thin 
Through the dark to probe the secret of the 

mvsterv within. 



Gold is here, pure, unpolluted by the hand of 

want or greed, 
Thnugh the heart of many a chieftain has 

been tempted in his need. 



45 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



But a breast ma}- Ijeat \\ith hunur though de- 
nied emblazed device, 

And a man's a man, though redskin, and may 
stand beyond a price. 

Through injustice, through privation, through 
the white man's threat and bribe. 

Has the secret Ijeen close guarded by the 
trusted of the tribe. 

It had been a hope, a safeguard, should their 

landholds he assailed, 
It was held a final resource when all other 

means had failed. 

For themselves, such garish baulile it were in 

them to despise, 
But each knew the fascination that it shed for 

other eyes, 

And the vague, uncertain future was a theme 

for lesser fear 
With such ward against the season when the 

paleface should appear. 



4S 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



And he came. The moaning pine boughs sway 

lieneath the polar star 
To repeat the old, old story of the lands that 

lie afar, 

Teepees gone, and lodges empty, confiscate 
by law of might, 

And the redman, naked, vanished into nothing- 
ness and night. 

Then it was that graybeard councils gazing 

o'er their broken host 
Swore to circumvent the white man in the 

thing he wished the most, 

And each calmed his outraged bosom when 

desp(Hled and o\'errun 
By an oath to keep the secret of the Great 

Crag of the Sun. 

Hasten, hasten, Tokohoma ! Work while thou 
hast yet the day. 

Let no sacred i)ledge deter thee, let no retro- 
spect delay, 



47 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Fuller pile thy mooseskin pouches till their 

space can hold no more, 
Work, proud prince, forget that labor ne'er 

has soiled thy hands before. 

Work, and c[uell that cry within thee that goes 
harking through the years 

Back to suff"rings of thy people, men's priva- 
tions, women's tears. 

And forget that near the Yukon where the 

white man spreads his tent 
Glide, at interxals, strange figures with their 

gray locks lowly bent 

That abide awhile unquesticined, like to souls 

that stand exempt. 
To observe the strife for riches with grim, 

satisfied contempt — 

That come somewhere from the silence to be 

seen awhile of men 
Then, with cloaks close wrapped about them, 

back to silence sink aeain. 



4S 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Hasten, hasten, Tokohonia, let no scruple 

stay thy hand, 
^^'ho has erred he will forgive thee, who has 

loved will understand. 

Hesitate no more upon it, clear thy heart of 

fretting- doubt. 
Act, and if thou may'st, with honor, if thou 

niay'st not, then without. 

Ofttimes what has loomed enormous dwindles 

when the thing be done. 
Thus thy project, with the gauntlet of thy 

superstitions run. 

Thou, a Croesus, heard' st that spoken which 
through all thy being- thrilled 

Yet doth stand, like others, grieving for a wdsh 
still unfulfilled? 



Hast thou dreamed, perhaps, that somewhere 
something- might be held unsold? 

Hast thou fear of limitation for this sullen, 
g'list'ning- gold? 



49 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Ease thy mind, O Tokohoma, work while thou 

hast day above, 
"Gold is head, and heart, and feeling-, it is 

friendship, it is love." 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



VII. 



Life within the snow-house settles to a sem- 
blance of repose ; 

Every day, like that before it, void of interest 
comes and goes, 

Every day a deeper damask shades the con- 
valescent's cheek 

And a lighter tone breaks gently where but 
grief was wont to speak. 

Hope will live while life can struggle, biding 
fortune's adverse moods 

And from sorrow comes a patience that re- 
bukes vicissitudes. 

She who had despaired now rallies as the lag- 
gard days go by 

And inclines to'ard hope, through instinct, for 
to lose it were to die. 



51 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Surely naught of hope lies yonder where bleak 

glaciers mark the south, 
Surely naught of promise glistens in the river's 

ice-choked mouth, 

Yet she clings in stubborn courage that the 

North alune can give 
To some undefined imiM'ession that is hope in 

thing's that live. 

Tokohoma tends his game snares, going out 

each day at dawn 
To retrace each feath'ry footmark ere the 

mists of morn are gone; 

When the drifts are deeply crusted and when- 
clement winds abide 

He is seen on plain and upland, a companion 
by his side. 

Oft their forms are silhouetted on the dull 

sky's yellow rim 
As they swing o'er rise and lowland, strong 

of breath and free of limb. 



52 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Hindered by no clinging garments, wearied by 

no useless dress, 
She who stands in fur and buckskin stands a 

woman none the less 

With the touch sublime and subtle, deeply 

lying, that defies 
Any form of garb to change it, any custom to 

disguise. 

Mile on mile is cjuickly covered over stretches 

bleak and bare — 
Thus she finds the panacea that can cope 

against despair, 



Thus contrives to tire her body that all thought 

may be at rest 
And remains abroad the longer when her heart 

is most distressed. 



Tokohoma ne'er surmises what is passing in 

her mind. 
In his self-hallucination he remains content 

and blind. 



53 



IX THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



And construes to suit his pleasure sighs 

that inadvertent start 
While she feeds, all unsuspecting, the strange 

passion of his heart. 

Time comes round when such long rambles fail 

to bring the peace desired 
When against her hopeful courage all the 

Northland seems conspired; 

Its great, glistening plains appal her, its relent- 

lessness affrights, 
Menace taints the gloomy story its forbidding 

linger writes 

And she ofttimes seeks the shelter of the cabin 

tired, unnerved. 
There to shut away the picture, there to sorrow 

unobserved, 

There to feel the hope for succor sink beneath 

assailing doubt 
And a poignant dread steal o'er her of those 

silent ways without. 



54 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



One day prostrate thus, but hiding each dis- 
tress of heart and mind 

Lest the tears should seem ungrateful, and the 
discontent unkind, 

One day, just as twilight darkens to the shade 

that evening wears 
And she bends in deep attention o'er her 

meager household cares, 

Far from out the void comes trembling that 
which makes her pulses start. 

That which holds the blood suspended in the 
ways that touch her heart; 

Something vague, and yet apparent, tangible, 

and still unreal. 
Seems to spread in widening circles and 

through all the Northland steal; 

Something undefined, elusive, that a moment 

fills the pause 
Lying 'twixt her heart's sensations and the 

cjuestion of the cause. 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Loud, then soft, then sunk to nothing, as each 
air-gust fades and swells, 

Intermittent sound and silence like the rhyth- 
mic swing of bells. 

On the wind seems borne the fragment of a 

trailing, broken word, 
Quick she turns, but Tokohoma gives no sign 

if he has heard, 

And she scarce has lent attention to her small 

pursuits again, 
Checking' what she would have spoken, pond'- 

ring what it may have been, 

When a gust of stronger pressure sweeping- 
past the cabin door 

Brings the sound in vibrant measure, this time 
louder than before. 

This time there is no mistaking, this time 

Tokohoma hears. 
Quick he gains the cabin doorw^ay, through the 

pur])ling twilight peers 



5C 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



To beliokl a muffled figure swinging" o'er the 

dark'ning snow, 
And to meet a sakitation sounded in a deep 

"Hako!" 



Scarce!}' is the greeting answered, scarce the 

first surprise is o'er. 
Ere the dogs and sled sweep circkng to a 

hak l)ef(n-e tke door; 

Here they loom unreal and spectral in the 
slo^^■ declining light 

While the stranger's hearty accents beg a shel- 
ter for the night. 

It is said, hy them that suffer, that despair 

alone can kill. 
These ha\'e ne\'er known the anguish of a great 

joy's sudden thrill. 

She, \\ithin. stands tense and rigid, like to one 

of power bereft. 
And, from out fast merging senses, finds but 

expectation left 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



When at last they stand together in the half 

lit, low walled place, 
Deep and differing emotions showing plainly 

in each face. 

O, what energy is wasted in pursuit of false 

desires ! 
O, what sacrifices redden, feeding useless altar 

fires ! 

Through the world we seek life's touchstone, 
ardently, from sun to sun. 

And the hour 'tis least expected, lo, the won- 
drous thing is done. 

And 'tis not the wealth of wisdom, and 'tis 
not the glint of gold. 

It is not the thing long dreamed of, that ob- 
tained, we priceless hold. 

But a rain1)(nv tinted bubble showing, to aston- 
ished eyes. 

Giant plan and cherished purpose dwarft to 
things of pigmy size; 



58 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



And the shimm'ring opalescence that fills earth 

and sky above 
Is the (lid, familiar story, which is all, for it 

is love. 



In the time it takes the glances to observe the 
lightning's sheen 

It was done, yet not so qnickly l)nt one watch- 
ing there has seen ; 



In the redman dormant passions to their 

channels wildlv set 
As the look of maid and stranger tell that 

kindred souls have met. 



59 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



VIII. 



When we Icn-e, the thing that frets us is un- 

wilHngly beHeved, 
We are wroth with donl)ts of warning, happier, 

far, to be deceived; 



Some strange madness holds us sanguine e'en 

Ijeneath suspicion's frown 
And we scarce achnit disaster when our house 

of cards eoes down. 



So it is with Tokohoma when the first wild 

Rush is o'er. 
When the inward tumult settles to the calm it 

knew before. 

With the difference that his passions now 

awakened to distrust 
Lie, a lake of seething lava, straining at the 

broken crust. 



60 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



But he makes each doubt subservieut to the 

hope that love ius[)ires 
And continues blind and stul)1)orn in the way 

of his desires. 

Many morns have now been numbered by the 
sun's uncertain light 

Since the stranger begged the favor of a shel- 
ter for the night. 

When came troops of urgent promptings that 

he should resume his way 
CfMiipromise \N'ould 'wait on duty to result in 

fresh delay. 

She of gentle heart, full naively, all her sweet 
persuasion lends 

And through days of happy converse the pro- 
tracted stay extends ; 



Time is tuned to love and raptures that no 

further wish comprise 
Than the ])riv'lege of confession, told already 

through the eyes. 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Life takes on a Ijrighter color in the days that 
follow this, 

All the Northland seems transfigured as be- 
neath an angel's kiss; 

Maid and lover find new beauty in the vari- 

tinted sky, 
Watch together bright ]3lumed eagles that, 

o'er hilltops, circling fly. 

Hunt the home of snowflowers nestling" in the 

bosom of the drifts 
And explore, like hal)p^• children, caves of 

overhanging rifts. 

Sometimes, in excess of spirits, when she lifts 

her voice in song- 
It is heard by Tokohoma, faintly, as he 

speeds along 

\\'ith his steps still to'ard the darkness of the 
Great Crag in the west 

And the hope of lo\-e still vil)rant to each pulse- 
beat of his breast. 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Since that night of jealous anger when the 

stranger first appeared 
He has held in leash his passions and dismissed 

the things he feared. 

'Tis his way with mooted questions to revolve 

them o'er and o'er, 
But when once they are decided to revert to 

them no more. 

Thus his usual projects find him with a clear, 

untroul^led mind. 
With no anxious doubt attaching to the pair 

he leaves behind, 

Who, their happy love indulging, greet each 

other at the dawn 
With no thought of Tokohoma save that he 

abroad is s'one. 



Glad that day is here before them where the 

darkness late has been. 
Glad to roam their snow-ringed Eden giv'n 

to love each other in, 



63 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Still they watch the sun-shafts brighten 
through the overhanging haze 

All unskilled to read the secret of those tower- 
ing peaks they praise, 



All unconscious that the Great Crag shows 

beneath the rising sun. 
That the work will, "neath its shadow, in a 

little time be done. 

Love, confessed, at last lies tranquil 'neath 

contentment that it l^rings 
And the talk of maid and stranger turns again 

to other things ; 

Plan and project half forgotten in the joys 

that nearer pressed 
Now return with deeper interest, fevered 

with the old unrest. 

^\'hen the lo\'er shares the secret of his mission 

there, it seems 
\Varp and woof of that frail fabric which the 

substance is of dreams; 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Deep the story is with interest, he who tells 

it halts for hreath 
Like to him from whom he had it ere his lips 

were sealed in death. 

Meager word he has for guidance, mem'ry 

only serves for plan, 
Bnt 'tis here, this wealth of Croesus, in the 

circle of a span. 



Once again the North is calling with the siren 

voice of old. 
Once again ambition trembles with the lust 

for yellow gold, 



Once again the tinkling sledge-bells fret the 

silence of the dawn 
And return to find the snow-house when the 

shades of night are drawn. 

Days are spent in fruitless effort, empty search, 

and useless toil, 
Hope sustained on that which fails it must 

upon itself recoil, 



65 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



But the sting of disappointment when the 
primal pain is o'er, 

Leaves the stranger still as eager, and as san- 
guine as before. 

Thus he spends tlie time indulging old am- 
bitions, hope compels ; 

Thus each night the maid who loves him 
listens, listens, for the bells. 

And their distant, muffled echo lightly tossed 
from mound to mound 

Rolls but faint, still all her being leaps respon- 
sive to the sound. 

Yet, at times, come vague present'ments, that, 

in terror, hold her dumb ; 
What if never from the silence should the 

sledge-bells tinkling come? 

What if yonder sun declining mark the epoch 

with its beams 
Wdien her soul shall wake to torment from the 

joy of empty dreams? 



66 



IN THE) SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Thus, full oft, she frets her spirit with the 

pain oi love's alarms, 
Thus, full oft, misgivings vanish, fading 'neath 

protecting arms. 

Once, when such grave dread assails her that 

her eyes o'erflow with tears. 
And her lover soothes with kisses all her doubts 

and foolish fears. 

One approaching to'ard the cabin where a 

ling' ring sunbeam plays, 
Stops without to view the picture, as it were, 

through crimson haze; 

From his back, as is his custom, flings his game 

upon the floor, 
But omits the usual greeting as he steps within 

the door. 



67 



IN THH SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



IX. 



Morn across the endless snow-fields creeps 

reluctantly and gray. 
Loath to mock the dead, bleak silence with the 

light of coming day, 

Heavy o'er each hill and river slow it steals 

with laggard feet 
Where the hoar frost clings in garlands like 

a mold'ring winding-sheet; 

It wrtuld seem that some stray life-throb 
should, at dawn, in gladness start 

But the whole white stretch lies pulseless, cold 
and sullen to its heart. 

Yet about the cabin yonder signs of waking 

motion shows. 
But 'tis alien to the landscape and the great 

North's grim repose. 



68 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



First the sledge-dogs start the echoes to an- 
nounce that night is fled 

Springing up to greet the sunhght from each 
warm, snow-burrowed bed. 

From the snow-house comes the stranger, 
drowsy stiU l^eneath some dream 

Half regretting that 'twas broken by the 
clamor of the team. 

All night long had sleep been troubled, all 
night long had shadows pressed 

Round his couch to lend discomfort and with 
discord fill his breast; 

Faces had, in wanton fashion flashing by, re- 
signed their place 

To a mask, that came and vanished, like to 
Tokohoma's face. 

But when day in listless motion o'er the hills 

began to creep 
Then his troubled mind had drifted to a calmer, 

sweeter sleep. 



IN the; shadow of the crag. 



Filled with vagTaiit fancies merging to a better, 
happier trend 

That the outcry from the sledge-dogs inter- 
rupted ere the end. 

Soon the eager team, full harnessed, stands 

impatient for the start, 
Once again the lover, turning, holds the 

maiden to his heart. 

Who, with that vague fear upon her which 
from too great love will grow, 

Closely clings to him in silence, strangely loath 
to let him go. 

When his form is but a shadow in the dis- 
tance these alarms 

Haunt her still and through perverseness seem 
to mock her empty arms; 

But to quell each fond misgiving soon more 

cheerful thoughts arise, 
Sanguine dreams of fairer countries bring back 

hope to wistful eyes. 



70 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



She, pretending, reads the future from the 

book's unopened leax'es 
With attention keenly busy on the woof that 

fanc}" weaves. 

All day long she feels the promise of a happier 

fortune spring. 
All day long bright hopes around her like a 

benediction cling 

And when night across the Northland in a 

hea\}- pall is drawn 
She, in doubt, can scarce accredit that the 

happy da}- is gone. 

Household duties now commanding, quick she 

trims a feeble light. 
Stops between her cares to listen to the noises 

of the night ; 

Something yonder, tense and sullen, sweeps 

the earth with broken moan, 
.She who hears stands dumb and rigid like an 

image carved in stone. 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Far, far out, each surging- air-gust fateful 

forces swift invites — ■ 
This the sound is that, fuh-sweHing, spoke of 

death that night of nights ! 

Round the hut stray, hurried snowflakes com- 
ing- forces half reveal. 

Bitter cold through chink and cranny pierces 
like the thrust of steel. 

In the lulls that come abruptly, quick succeed- 
ing fitful swells, 

She, within, in deep attention, once more 
listens for the bells. 

Once more hears their muffled music roll along 

the changing mounds 
Once more marks each tinkling cadence trail 

away in broken sounds. 

Once more waits within the cabin where such 

happiness has been 
Till the low-browed door shall open and her 

lover enter in. 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAO. 



Footsteps o'er the snow come creaking to an- 
nounce him near, at last, 

Soon the cabin door swings shriv'ring from 
before a biting blast 

That sweeps walls, and floor, and ceiling, 
shrieking loud in mad delight. 

Then whirls 1)ack, past Tokcihoma, to be 
lost within the night. 

For the time that spans a moment still he 

stands without remark. 
Strangely tall his stalwart figure looms 

against the outer dark, 

In his black hair frost wreaths glisten, snow- 
flakes fleck his wolfskin coat, 

Torn, perhaps by jagged boulders, and loose 
hanging at the throat. 

Sullenly at last he enters, to all outward pres- 
ence blind, 

Deeph' sunk 'twould seem in problems that 
revolve within his mind. 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Lig'htlv m()\es the maid i)rei)aring that which 

forms the evening meal. 
But full oft to'ard Tokohoma do her furtive 

glances steal ; 



To her mind come wild suggestions that her 

inmost soul rejects. 
She refuses as preposterous this strange thing 

she half suspects; 



Then the truth comes full upon her sharp, con- 
vincing, clear defined. 

And explains much bitter rancor in the heart 
once known as kind. 

As the falcon stares bewildered when first 

loosed from jess and hood 
S(^ she, dazed, now looks on actions until now 

misunderstood ; 

Tn the light of this revealing she becomes con- 
fused and dumb — 

Tliey must go, herself and lo\-er, lest some 
fearful evil come. 



74 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Tokohoma, sitting silent, makes as if he would 

arise, 
There seems menace in his action, there seems 

madness in his eyes; 

O'er the maid sweep vague present'ments, 
what they are she scarce can say, 

But her heart reads evil omen in her lover's 
lung delay. 

In this drift of speculation time has passed not 
marked before. 

Up she starts, alarmed and anxious, swift pro- 
ceeds toward the door 

And when faint and all but sinking 'neath the 

pro1)lem of her doubt 
Tokohoma flashes past her and in frenzy 

rushes out. 



Out. far out, his form soon merges in the 

shadows of the west; 
Out, far out, with dread emotions storming 

fiercely in his breast, 



75 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Glad he is to whip through wind-gusts sweep- 
ing by with broken wail, 

Glad he is to buffet forces marshalled for the 
gathering gale; 

Swift he spurns each ice-clad boulder, heedless 

passes trap and lure, 
Scorns to cling where shallow footholds mark 

the way as insecure, 

Wildly leaps each drift and chasm, desp'rate 

till the gual be won 
And at last stands torn and bleeding 'neath 

the Great Crag of the Sun. 

Scudding clouds that fly wind driven, show a 

path of ghostly light 
Where the pale moon, hanging distant, seems 

to mock the frozen night. 

In a patch of open sky-line where the forces 

thinly set 
Tokohoma's storm-swept figure shows in inky 

silhouette ; 



76 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



He, like one in sudden madness, bares his tem- 
ples to the blast, 

Caring not for dangers present, dwelling not 
on dangers past; 

He disdains each giant wind-gust that assails 

his eerie place 
And that lifts his hair and flings it like a 

whip across his face 

But he feels no outward lashing of his passion 

driven form 
And his wild, disheveled figure seems the 

spirit of the storm. 

Once, his arms he stretches upward like to one 

who bears the pain 
Of a grief, that grown to crush him, he no 

longer may sustain, 

Then, as if to thwart emotions out of which 

such weakness grew, 
Quickly turns toward the cavern and the work 

left still to do. 



77 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



When desires that love has cherished, when the 

Hfe that l()\"e has planned 
Fade away in swift destruction ere we come to 

understand. 



Then 'tis not the final wrecking of our hopes 

that rends the heart 
But the looking on the dunil) things that have 

been of love a part. 

Tokohoma takes the pouches, one by one, from 

out their place 
And a wave of tender feeling hotly burns 

within his face; 

Dreams are here, and fancied projects, in these 

mooseskin pouches rolled, 
Hopes and sweet anticipations, garnered with 

the gathered gold; 

Here are gentle thoughts compelling to'ard 

the love he hoped to win 
And beneath each thong some life-drop of his 

heart is fastened in. 



78 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Rouse thyself, O Tokohoma, let thy inner soul 

be dumb; 
Is it royal prince, or woman, that can thus be 

overcome ? 

Thou hast seen a star swing hither and its orbit 

touched th}' course — 
It has passed — thy way is yonder, true to thy 

compelling force. 

Rouse thyself and let the temper of thy fathers 

in thee speak. 
Let thy manhood shame the weakness showing 

pallid on thv cheek, 

And the work that brought thee hither, let it 

be completely done, 
It is well that hope should end here where thv 

folly was begun. 

Then, beneath the crag is motion that would 

kin to frenzy seem. 
In the htful light cjuick flashes that which 

sh(^ws with velvet gleam ; 



79 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Down, deep down, through space descending, 
hard and yellow, shining, cold, 

Leaps, with sndden flings and dashes, hoard on 
hoard of glist'ning gold; 

Down it springs like bright blades flashing, 
each renio\'ed from shrondin.g- sheath. 

Till it hides within the shadows of the river 
far l)eneath. 

When at last the task is ended Tokohoma turns 

his face 
And looks long- toward the cabin, standing 

rigid in his place ; 

In his pose is that intenseness of a Cjuestion deep 

involved. 
In his look that indecision of a purpose half 

resolved ; 



But he turns aside suggestions, holding one 

alone exempt 
And at last this, too, dismisses with a gesture 

of contempt. 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Wild and strange his form in shadow marks 

itself against the light 
As he turns and sets sharp northward to be lost 

within the night. 



81 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



X. 



When the storm is spent and morning in tlie 

curtained east is shown 
Then the Northland, cold and empty, comes 

again into its own. 

Naught disturbs the lonely distance save a cry 

that spreads afar 
As a wolf, on crouching haunches, points his 

nose toward a star. 

Landmarks that were things familiar lie in- 
consequent and strange ; 

\Adiere was life now seems existent some mute 
evidence of change, 

Restless snow-drifts hedge the cabin and the 
snow-house close about 

And the paths before their d(iorways are for- 
ever blotted out. 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



Like a v/raith, the chill of morning through the 

hut, unhindered, steals 
And it writes in silver tracings on the things 

the light reveals, 

Yet it can record no motion that the distant 

dawn awoke 
Save that from the lamp, still l^urning, trails a 

line of cjuiv'ring- smoke; 

Too, a sheet of snow, thin drifted, creeps across 

the cabin floor 
Like a restless ghost, and yonder, just outside 

the open door. 

Tiny whirls of powd'ry lightness hiss against 

a growing mound 
That has ris'n to hide beneath it what has 

stained the frozen ground. 

Fitful gusts of wind, sharp circling, quickly 

fill each sunken rift 
Cov'ring close the sledge's burden lying 

deep within the drift. 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. 



When the laggard sun, slow mounting, gives 

the day a deeper glow 
Then is shown two quiet figures outlined 

'neath the drifted snow, 

One a man's is, all unconscious that his blood- 
less lips are pressed 

By a woman, who, still kneeling, clasps her 
lover to her breast. 

In the North the air hangs heavy 'neath the 

silence of the years 
And the wind moans low and broken as it 

sweeps between the spheres. 



84 



EARTH S LESSON. 



EARTH'S LESSON. 



Why should we not bring smiles instead of 

tears 
To lay upon the altar-stone of God ? 
Why hold beliefs of superstitious years 
That dwarf the sjiirit with discordant fears 
And outrage flesh with harsh, insulting rod? 

Why should we not come smging to the throne 

With hearts that in ebulliency of joy 

Seem bursting from their cells, too narrow 

grown ? 
O, whv should man reap nothing of the sown 
But tares, and all the beautiful destroy? 

The feast is spread and we are asked to dine; 
What sullenness of temper does it show 
To rudely turn from kindly proffered wine 
And pass with shielded eyes where splendors 

shine. 
The Father never meant it should be so. 



THF,N AS NOW. 



Sine', sine" fair earth, till every silent throat 
Responds nnto the life-song of your sod 
And thunder-sounding rolls each swelling- note • 
And teach us liy your own sweet, simple rote 
To smile beneath the kindly smile of God. 



THEN AS NOW. 

Long, long ago when butterflies 
Could converse hold, and let men know 
Their wants, thev caught the traits of men 
As I will undertake to show. 



Two butterflies were winging past 
King Solomon's temple, grand and vast; 
From touch of wing and foolish flutter 
'Twas plain unto the most benighted, 
Their troth had just that day been plighted. 



THliN AS NOW. 



Like maid perplexed when blushes come. 
My Lady Butterfly was dumb, 
But, bursting with his own importance, 
My great Lord Butterfly, loquacious, 
Spoke of himself in way audacious. 



"You see yon temple, dear," he said; 
She answered, "Yes," by nod of head; 
"\\>11, AX'ith my wing, all down encovered, 
I easily those pillars, polished, 
Could tumble at your feet, demolished." 



This bold remark was overheard 

By Solomon : "Upon my word 

Who ever knew such braggart boasting?" 

Then calling him aside, demanded 

Why he should lie thus open-handed. 



Returning to his mate at last. 
She, woman-like, asked what had passed 
And he. man-like, to stop at nothing 
So, with eclat, he might come through it. 
Replied, "He asked me not to do it." 



THE EARTH-CALL. 



THE EARTH-CALL. 



To you, in cowl and gown, 

Who stand aloof with hands crossed on your 

breast 
And patient head bowed down, 
Do wild thoughts ever come? 
Do ghosts of former hours now long since spent 
In phantom shape renew the joys they lent 
And hold }ou in their vagaries of air; 
Do you at times awake to find your prayer 
Forgotten, and lips dumb? 

Beneath that sober garb 
Do vagrant longings ever stir to vex 
Your heart with cruel barb? 
Do dreams you thought long crushed 
Rush full upon you o'er your weakening will 
And make your pulses leap with quickening 
thrill ? 



THE EARTH-CALL. 



What guilty blush is this that stains your 

cheek ? 
The scourge, the scourge for one avowed so 

weak 
Till lawlessness is hushed ! 

Do voices from the throng, 

Strange, weird world-voices, ever reach your 

heart 
And still your matin song? 
Do you, too, ever seem 
To see the better happiness afar 
And, when 'tis day, long for the night's pale 

star. 
Then, scarce the night comes, wish the day 

again ? 
Your lot is but the common lot of men; 
Back to your beads — to dream. 



91 



THE GREATER VICTORY. 



THE GREATER VICTORY. 



There was a way, a joy, a mystic, unnamed 
thing 
A dreamer sought — 
As vague as air that's troul^led by a swallow's 
wing — 
Ideal, intangible, and shadow-fraught. 



Impossible it seemed, so much it held desired, 

So much implied. 
So near, yet so remote ; uncertainty conspired 

Tc:) make it seem l)v distance deified. 



One day the prize was gained ; he struggled 
through despair. 
Through ways defiled, 
To grasp a poisoned cup ; the watching world 
stood there 
And so he pressed it to his lips and smiled. 



92 



THE LOVE-PLAINT. 



THE LOVE-PLAINT. 



L^or m}' Icn-e and me 

How the robins sang in the greenwood tree, 

How the great bell's voice 

Li tlie church afar made the hills rejoice 

For mv love and me. 



On the sun-kissed lea, 

Where the wanton liower lures the roving bee, 
There we rested long, 

And the whole world throbbed to the passion- 
song 
Of my love and me. 

Ah, my love and me, 

How we creep afar lest the world shall see 

\\diat my arms enfold ; 

O, the w'ay is long and the world is cold 

For my love and me. 



93 



AT SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO. 



AT SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO*. 



The story runs thus: 'Twas a Sabbath morn 
So still that no leaf of the tasseled corn 
Which weighted the stalks in the neighb'ring 

held 
By rustle or tremor a breeze revealed ; 
A pastoral scene that was fair to view, 
With cattle in clover-fiecked fields of dew, 
And the sun just touching with burnished gold 
San Juan Capristrano, the mission old. 

With them that kneel down 'neath its arches, 

dim. 
In the love of their hearts to remember Him 
Is she, who, low-bowed in her place of prayer, 
Seems shunned by the faithful who gather 

there ; 
Bright feminine eyes on her fair face rest, 
On her rounded arm and her swelling breast. 
And each seems inclined to deny assent 
To beauty that sins and is penitent. 

Out yonder a silence shrouds copse and hill 
And fastens the valley within its thrill; 



94 



AT SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO. 



A ponderous terror that creeps along 
And hushes the notes of the thrush's song, 
A sullen, intangible, grewsome thing. 
The shadow, unseen, of a monster-wing. 
That gathers the steeps in its mystic clutch 
And palsies the air with mesmeric touch. 

The animate harken ; the silence speaks ; 
Back flashes the answ^er in fear-blanched 

cheeks, 
And horrors, half dreamed of, suspended lie 
In the beat of the breath and the wid'ning- eye ; 
A rumble, a rending, a power compressed 
That tortures the hills with its deep unrest, 
A shiver, a pause, then the temblor's hurled 
In the white of its wrath on a helpless world. 

The mystery gathers within the dell 
And hushes the sound of the mission bell. 
It razes the stones wdth its lev'ling rod 
And crushes the cries that are raised to God. 
No soul, in the chapel, that felt its breath 
But rushed to the doors to a frenzied death 
Save her who was shunned ; lest her faint heart 

fail 
She had knelt, in her faith, at the altar rail. 

♦When the proud old mission at Capistrano was tumbled by an earth- 
quake the arch over the altar was the only one that stood. 



WHEN LOVE BETRAYS. 



WHEN LOVE BETRAYS. 

The l^anshee frets the night with dismal cry ; 
Some twenty times across the wind-swept ckme 
I've heard it come, now shrill, now scarce a 

sigh 
That floats beneath the weird and pallid moon 
Like some dread echo moaning in reply. 

Your lover soon will come; rest yet awhile 
Till yonder length'ning shadow darkly dips 
And lays its finger on the sleeping dial. 
Then wake the heavy silence of your lips 
And rouse their languor to a welcome smile. 

Who knocks without? You are impatient, 

friend. 
But eager lo\'er knows not how to wait. 
Perhaps your mistress in good time will send 
And raise the hopes that droop disconsolate. 
Have patience, doors must open, nights must 

end. 



96 



WHEN LOVE BETRAYS. 



What ! Yet again ? Coukl you, beycind the door, 
Behold the stilhiess of this covered thing. 
This huddled horror prone upon the floor 
And watch the growth of yonder eddying ring 
I wonder would you seek admittance more? 

How near that cry ! Could I have heard aright ? 
It seemed to live within the very room. 
\\niat fiend conspires to fill me with affright? 
Vague portents breathe within the murky 

gloom 
And fraught with menace is the sullen night.. 

AAHiat work, what work, to show to-morrow's 

sun. 
O, why, poor weakling, why did you not live 
And keep unstained these sands so nearly run? 

^ ^ ;■< ^; ^ 

Now, you without ! let Fate her verdict give 
What life shall answer for the thing I've done. 



97 



THE DREAMER. 



THE DREAMER. 



My way is this : To rest in the shade 
Deep in the dusk of some whispering glade 
Drowsily happy and satisfied; 
Great are the wonders that grow apace 
Out of the heart of such hallowed place; 
Weird with a theme I may not repeat 
Pipes of Pan lull me with music sweet; 
Few know the path from the highway wide 
To way that is mine, in the shade, aside. 

My way is this: Apart from the strife, 
Far from the tumult of clamorous life. 
Courting the comfort the throng denied, 
Having no care v\dien the day is done 
If I shall look on to-morrow's sun; 
Glad in the light of the thing that seems, 
Happy to live in my idle dreams. 
This is no highway the world may ride. 
This way that is mine, in the shade, aside. 



THE WANTON. 



THE WANTON. 

I planted a rose in the sandy soil of an iinkept 

garden bare, 
It fastened its roots down deep in the earth and 

lifted its head in the air. 
It flung- its arms to the summer's sky and 

opened its heart to the sun. 
And seductivel}^ pressed its lips to the breeze 

in joy of the deed I had done. 

Its crimson heart was as red and sweet as the 

lips of a woman I knew. 
And I came to liken the wanton thing to her 

beauty as it grew, 
It would blush and pant in the sun's hot ray 

and tremble with sweet delight 
As the southern wind pressed warm and close 

to its heart in the sultry nieht. 



99 



THE WANTON. 



It would quiver and bend as the passionate 

wind pressed close with hot caress, 
And nod and sigh as the bees flew by and flirt 

its scarlet dress; 
I g-rew to hate its wanton way, despise its heart 

of flame, 
Abhor its maddening sweetness, withheld from 

none who came. 

So I crushed its life in my hand one day, in 

passion its roots uptore. 
And panting with shame and anger gazed on 

my unkept ground once more; 
I loudly laughed in savage joy to show the 

world my scorn, 
But pressed my heart with my bleeding hand 

to hide the o-ash of a thorn. 



100 



A WOMAN S CONSTANCY. 



A WOMAN'S CONSTANCY. 



A barren road lies parching in the sun; 
Its drear monotony and tiresome length 
Drag on, and threaten never to have done. 



I toil along the rough, uneven way 

With heart depressed, with face tear-stained 

and worn, 
And dread the light of each succeeding day. 

One morn, when all but sunk beneath my load. 
My untaught lips essayed a prayer, and lo. 
The light of Calvary shone o'er the road. 

No hope but one, the cross. A dream I 

nursed — 
But that is dead. O God, desert me now, 
Then chaos is, and Fm indeed accursed. 



101 



A WOMAN S CONSTANCY. 



My dream, a weakling's dream, no more shall 

fret 
My yearning" heart. \A'ithin the mighty calm 
Of yonder sacred cross, I will forget. 

Come, subtle essence of a power divine, 
Cloak all my senses in thy mystery. 
And shield me from all mastery but thine. 

;|: ^ ;{< >|i ^ 

Mankind is weak, O God, the steady light 
Of Thy great presence awes; so keep me firm 
Lest I drift back to sin, and to the night. 

My erring heart still pleads and mourns its loss 

In silent anguish. Is there no relief 

For those who kneel and cry beneath the cross? 

Just God, forgive! In vain I've tried to slay 
This love within my Ijreast. Take Thou all else 
But give me l)ack my dream of yesterday. 

Two faces silhouetted in the dawn ; 

The woman sits and dreams in sweet content; 

Her prayer is answered, but the cross is gone. 



102 




■Anil muoiihcams lost in the pulseless niyht 
Arc (jathercd close by the irutcr- sprite." 



THE WATER-SPRITE. 



THE WATER-SPRITE. 



All clay she lies in a lily's cup, 

But late at night when the moon comes up, 

Away, away o'er the dimpling lake 

To a place she knows in the flow'ring brake 

Where perfumes lift from a tangled wild 

To thrill the soul of the air-born child, 

To overcome with a rare delight 

The ravished sense of the water-sprite. 



The spot is ringed with a shaded red 
Of flow'r-cups. blossoming overhead ; 
Here waves beat soft on a sanded beach 
With lisping murmur, like childhood's speech 
On grasses burnt to a sable brown 
She rests as light as a thistle-down, 
And moonbeams lost in the pulseless night 
Are gathered close by the water-sprite. 



103 



THE WATER SPRITE. 



The warm air steals from the spice-groved 

South 
To press its kiss on her wilhng mouth, 
And where but promises late arose 
She now the joy of fulfillment knows; 
With arms fiung wide to the perfume warm, 
With wing's sunk limp to her melting form 
She yields herself to the sweets of night. 
Those languorous jovs of the water-sprite. 



IN MEDITATION. 



IN MEDITATION. 



Though all else fade yec may 1 always keep 

The memory of yesterday; that time 

W^ien words were said that made the pulses 

leap. 
When good was killed and evil set a-chime, 
And every impulse that was virtue-fed 
Lay prone. 'Twas then I hid the wound from 

which hope bled. 
And made no outward sign when it was dead. 

But r\'e remembered. 'Twixt my God and 

me 
There lives a prayer, a fervid, earnest prayer, 
That reaches down through all infinity 
And rests where lesser pleas would fear to dare. 
\\'hen He shall give His ultimate decree, 
AA'hat will we do, mv soul, when He shall say 

to me, 
"This day I give to thee thine enemy." 



105 



SATIETY. 



SATIETY. 



A man and a wciman in sad discontent, 
Their hearts dull and heavy, to Cnpid's shrine 

went. 
And knelt at the altar old, faded and worn. 
To ponr out the griefs and the wrongs they 

had borne. 

Each went there alone, in contrition and dread, 
Afraid lest the other should see love was dead. 
And shrunk from the scene the denouement 

would make. 
And tried to e\'ade it for each other's sake; 
They onlv acknowledged in secret, and shame. 
The truth of the tale of the moth and the flame. 

"I'm tired," said the man, " 'tis the old, self- 
same play. 
The same entre act every night, every day, 



106 



SATIETY. 



The same ceaseless babble, cheap tinsel and 

ganze, 
The same angry words from the same jealous 

cause, 
The same curtain-raiser, the same curtain 

call— 
["d give twenty years to be out of it all." 

'T'm tired," said the woman, 'T kneel to con- 
fess 
We wavered and struggled in sore heart dis- 
tress. 
Brought duty to bear on my faltering mind, 
But only ephemeral good could I find, 
A.nd lo\'e lies as cold and as dead as a stone — 
I cover the corpse with the hopes I have 
known." 

'T'm tired of it all," said the man with a frown, 
The liar to the holy of holies threw down, 
And stood there aghast in the dim, sacred place 
As he saw in the dusk, silhouetted, a face. 
■'You here! For what purpose?" he falter- 

tering cried, 
'T'm sacking the Temple of Love," she replied, 



107 



SATIETY. 



"I've torn down the idol, depleted the shrine, 
Despoiled, desecrated this temple of mine; 
The image I thought was pure gold in the past, 
I ftnd is but poor imitation at last." 

They parted, and traversed their different ways 
And thought all forgotten in happier days, 
But sometimes unbidden, heart-sick, on the 

rack, 
The thoughts of the man and the woman go 

back. 
And tears and regrets and fond memories 

crowd 
Round a small, broken image with hope for its 

shroud. 



lOS 



A YESTERDAY. 



A YESTERDAY. 

There's a land I know, 

Its beauties lie 

'Neath a tropic sky. 
There the cacti grow ; 
There the red-lipped, sun-kissed cacti grow, 

And glow, and glow. 

There's a face I know; 

To red lips set 

Round a cigarette; 
There's a promise low, 
There are raven lashes drooping low 

O'er eyes that glow. 

There's a spot I know ; 

A face lies white 

In the moon's cold light, 
And the cacti grow — ■ 
And the red-lipped cacti blood-red grow. 

And glint and glow. 



109 



BE KIND. 



BE KIND. 

If you are kind 

Then there wih be no need of separate ways, 
No painful gathering where tares upraise 
Through tears that bHnd. 

Thoughts unconfessed 

Although from \'enom sprung, may harmless 

fall. 
But all their potent power is past recall 
When once expressed. 

And lo\e lies dead 

Sometimes before the heart is yet aware 
That mortal wound has been inflicted there 
By hard things said. 

The pulses start, 

And dread alarm through soft emotion creeps, 
As hopeless sorrow o'er contentment sweeps 
To rouse the heart; 



no 



BE KIND. 



And when it wakes, 

It turns, like one that dreams, from what an- 
noys 
And beats awhile to past, remembered joys — 
Then slowly breaks. 

Be kind, he sweet. 

And let our love from such deep source he 

drawn 
That each shall know the other in that dawn 
Where next we meet. 



in 



THE LOVERS TRYST. 



THE LOVERS' TRYST. 



A swift ebb tide, on the eastern side, 
Sweeps in at the Point Del Mar, 
For cycles old have the l)reakers hissed 
And swept their spray in a circling- mist 
O'er a crag that's christened "The Lovers' 
Tryst." 

A wild. Ixild run that the sea-folk shun, 

Crowned high by decaying walls, 
That, years ago. were a castle old. 
Where dwelt a maid with a heart of gold. 
Who lived, and died, for a brigand bold. 



The good ship Sue. with her \'iking crew. 

Set sail at the break of day ; 
All night she'd drowsed to a sweet refrain 
Of music, sung by the mighty main. 
Whose pulses throbbed at her anchor-chain. 



112 











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THE LOVERS TRYST. 



Her listless crew slept the whole nig-ht through, 

And never a man that stirred, 
Tliat is, save one, and he swam to land 
To kiss a beautiful maiden's hand, 
And nurse a love that was contraband. 



And now he stood in his plaid and hood, 

And thought of the night gone by; 
He thought of love, and a maiden's bed. 
And a tender look o'er his features spread 
That made a saint's of a pirate's head. 



And when his ship, with a llirt and dip, 

Swept close'to the castle wall, 
He bared his head as he hove in sight, 
And dipped his flag, in the morning- light. 
In sweet salute to a form in white. 



"Sing ho, sing ho, my aggressive crew, 
"We'll toast the lass, and the good ship Sue, 
"Both good and steady, and firm and true." 
Right well it be if they prove so, too. 



U3 



THE LOVERS TRYST. 



A sentinel's face, from its hiding place, 

Saw Sue dip the brigand flag. 
Then disappearetl ; in a moment more 
A bugle sounded from off the shore 
That made the echoes with challeng-e roar. 



A call to arms, while the sharp alarms 

Ring c[uick "long the castle walls, 
A shot flies swift, o'er the waters blue, 
That's answered, cjuick, by the viking crew 
With an old Long Tom and a thirty-two. 



Ha, see! A bark leaves the fortress, dark, 

And speeds for the open sea ; 
She cuts the foam as she plows along 
In hot pursuit of the pirate throng. 
Who flout her sail with a ribald songf. 



"Sing ho, sing ho, all my \'iking crew, 
"And sing again when your song" is through, 
"And make the jest that 1)est pleases you." 
'Twill be the same in an hour or two. 



114 



THE LOVERS TRYST. 



The pirate crew would have sworn that Sue 

Could distance the Falcon bark, 
But Ijig- and red in the morning light 
The Falcon's beacon forged in sight, 
And the viking crew prepared for tight. 



Sing ho, sing ho, let your song ring true, 
And pipe a note for the Falcon, too, 
The lassie's father commands the crew 
That rides the waves in pursuit of you. 



The light of day saw a bloody fray. 

The deck of the Sue shone red. 
Her monkey-gafT was a gallows-tree 
That swayed and bent 'neath the corpses, three, 
Of pirates, dead as they'll ever be. 



The captain stood, in his plaid and hood, 

And wielded his trusty Ijlade; 
The ring of dead he had piled knee-high 
At length attracted the searching eye 
Of a man in lace who was tacking by. 



115 



THE LOVERS TRYST. 



"You imp of fire," quoth the irate sire, 

"Come measure your sword with me : 
"Forsooth, I vow hy the Sphinx's head, 
"That ere the sun grows a deeper red, 
"You'h mark }'Our length on a coral bed." 

Then quoth the chief: "By Gilmony's Reef, 

"It pains me to cut your throat ; 
"But I've a tryst with your daughter, fair, 
"Which you would spoil, if you lived, I swear, 
"So pray to heaven ere you journey there." 

On guard ! On guard! Now, their breath comes 
hard, 
Now, chances would seem a draw ; 
The pirate falls, he is up once more, 
He stumbles — slips on the bloody floor — 
The other's blade spits his heart's red core. 

Then o'er the rail, with a lusty hail, 
They toppled the brigand bold; 
A valiant man, and a brave, I vow. 
The father cried : "Will you tell me how 
"You'll keep your tryst with my daughter 
now?" 



116 



THE LOVERS TRYST. 



The answering word by the wind was heard, 

But not by the Falcon crew ; 
Thev snng- their songs of the bloody fray, 
They sailed back home to the fortress gray, 
And reached it just at the close of day. 



No single star o'er the Point Del Mar 
Hung high in the hea\ens dark ; 
The beach lav black, but a grewsome sight 
Was shown next day by the morn's rich light — 
A maiden robed in a dress of white. 



Sing ho, sing ho, for the good ship Sue, 

Sing ho, sing ho, for her captain, too; 
He's sung his song, and his song is through, 
A lone farewell to the viking crew. 



A heart of gold, and a l)rigand bold. 
Her arms press his bloody form. 
Her cold, dead eyes meet his glassy stare, 
Her wdiite lips rest on his sea-swept hair. 
Thus ends the tale of this luckless pair. 



117 



THE PENALTY. 



THE PENALTY. 



The song was finished when the maestro said, 
"Dream not of fame nor }et of great success;" 
Then kindly adde<h when she drooped her head, 
As though rekictant to implant unrest 
Within the calm Arcadia of her breast, 
"Great gifts like yours from heaven alone are 

sent." 
He saw her hopeful look and sadly smiled ; 
"Some day you'll know that fame is only meant 
"To touch the lives that harbor discontent ; 
"Success is found through grief and weariness. 
"Be loath to leave the path where pleasure lies ; 
"Joy li\'es an hour, but sorrow never dies; 
"It is the soul of man's dead happiness. 
"Ambition is not born of ecstasy; 
"When you have suffered, then, come back to 

me." 



118 



THE MEDICI S NEW YEAR. 



THE MEDICI'S NEW YEAR. 



Ring on, great jangling bells, your discord's 

sweet ; 
\A'ith brazen clanging make the air replete; 
I love the music of your metal throats, 
I feel the triumph throbbing in your notes; 
My heart, a pendulum, keeps rhythmic beat 
To everv insolence your tongues repeat. 
You speak to men Init of the New Year's birth ; 
Of God's good will ; of peace upon the earth ; 
You speak to me a short, exultant word — 
My sated hatred drowses as 'tis heard — 
You speak of plundered enemies to me. 
Of downfall, and of my supremacy. 

As silence that too long has passive hung 
Turns \'enom in the power upon your tongue, 
So has the heart that echoes to your call. 
From too long waiting, turned its blood to gall. 
Your threat'ning sound, portentous, blatant, 

clear, 
Proclaims a frenzied anger to my ear; 



119 



LOVE S LAMENT. 



I langh — a silent laugh. Your voice to me 
Speaks soothingly of strength, and victory. 
I dream, in sweet content, above the woe 
Of one long hated — a dismantled foe; 
And I repeat when your last note is done, 
I have prevailed 'gainst barriers — and won ! 



LOVE'S LAMENT. 



Cupid drooped his pinions fair ; 

"Why thus change my name?" he queried. 

Answered maiden, debonair, 

In accents wearied : 

"Love, put jealousy away, 

"Though I change your name, don't sorrow 

"Love is love — though Jack to-day 

"And Joe to-morrow." 



120 



ON LAUREL HILL. 



ON LAUREL HILL. 



How heedless they on Laurel Hill ! 

The lark that has lain dumb 
^^'ith weight of night within his throat, 
W'ith darkness silencing each note, 
Near bursts his heart with melody 

Now day is come ; 
But matin song finds no responsive thrill 
In these, the heedless ones, on Laurel Hill. 



On Laurel Hill they love the night 

With pale stars overhead, 
For when the earth lies dark and Cdld 
White tendrils seem to ease their hold 
And give each sleeper freer space 

Within his bed. 
What care these silent ones for dawning light 
That ever fails to reach them in their nig-ht? 



121 



MAN S LOVE. 



Here's name and fame with moss o'ergrown 

And Avhite stone sinking lower ; 
Each (hi)' the city grows apace, 
Each da}' some trav'ler seeks the place 
And t(3 himself a homestead takes 

To roam no more. 
On Lanrel Hill each, honsed l)eneath his stone 
Like surly hermit, guards his hearth, alone. 



MAN'S LOVE. 

You say you love me and affirm no hour 
Of dark adversity could blight the tiower 
Of this, your fervent passion ; that no deed 
Committed or in embryo would need 
Your absolution; 'twould forgiven be 
Before 'twas spoken; that }-our constancy 
Could never equal find. If you but knew 
The errcirs of a past I hide from you — 
'Tis as I thought! You, shrinking, turn from 

me; 
'Tis not myself you lo\'e, but purity. 



122 



THE BRIDGE, 



THE BRIDGE. 



Here passes the world when the day is done; 
The toiler, released by the coming night. 
The child of misfortune, the rich man's son, 
And shapes that are born with the waning 

light. 
I loiter again where the discords meet 
And list to the hurry of eager feet 
Which startles, as louder the noises grow, 
The echoes that hide in the dusk below. 

No prejudice here; it receives the great 
And misses them not when at last they pass. 
Departing like those of a lesser state, 
xA.s transient as breath on a looking-glass; 
It welcomes the king with his pageant, proud. 
Or sanctions revolt of the maddened crowd 
While onward the river in restless throb 
Laps in through its arches with feeble sob. 



123 



MAN S HERITAGE. 



Strange shadows flit here when the throng has 

passed, 
Queer wraiths of tlie quay from the darkness 

sprung, 
Things lost on the course where their hfe is 

cast 
That vanish when dawn is with crimson hung; 
These Hnger, with me, while desire outstrips 
The word that hangs pending on pliantom lips, 
And turn, as with hope, as the silence brings 
The theme of the song that the river sings. 



MAN'S HERITAGE. 

This thing called Life! What care we take to 

shield 
Its little hour. We fume and strut about 
Forever watchful lest the light go out 
And save us from some torture that it yield. 

Proud heritage ! As through an open door 
Man enters, strides in great inconsecpience 
7\nd then, protesting, forcibly goes hence, 
An atom, lost, upon an unnamed shore. 



124 



THE VOICE OF SILENCE. 



THE VOICE OF SILENCE. 



Not things we sa.\ Init those we leave unsaid 

Discover beauty. 
And not by voiced reproof are slack hearts led 
But by some vague, unspoken word, each hears, 

That pleads for duty. 



'Tis not the sounds but silences of life 

To which we hearken ; 
The wave-beats in the sea of daily strife 
Raise clouds of sound, with silences between 

That lie-ht or darken. 



Not in effulgence can those joys be found 

That flood the senses. 
They come but when the day kills clangorous 

sound 
And night, all silent, calms the fevered bloud 

And rest dispenses. 



125 



THE VOICE OF SILENCE. 



We lose the theme where eloquence has 
burned 
Nor long regret it — 
It was a sound ; but who of man has turned 
To feel the thrill of silent, breathing art 



And can forget it? 



When wind-swept storms leave on the shiv- 
ering palm 
Great tears that glisten. 
And rage-rent forces speak within the calm, 
What wondrous words are whispered in the 
ears 
Of those who listen. 

As after passion comes serene repose, 

Calm after flurry. 
So, after life comes silence. Ah, who knows 
How we shall read the music of the void 

To'ard which we hurry? 



126 



SATAN S TOAST. 



SATAN'S TOAST. 

Here's to sins that ye do and ye wish to do; 

Here's to promises never kept; 
Here's to lips that deny with the morning light 
Tender words that they whispered at dead of 
night ; 

Here's to hearts that have died unwept. 

Here's to pages ye seal when the deeds be done ; 

Here's to hopes that ye crush and kill; 
Here's to treacheries hidden in love's caress; 
Here's to times that ye're silent lest ye confess; 

Here's to mem'ries that shame, and thrill. 

Here's to lips that breathe love when the 
heart is dead; 
Here's to all that I claim as mine; 
Here's to ye who repent as the daylight starts 
And succumb to your passions when light de- 
parts ; 
Here's to woman, and love, and wine. 



127 



THE BENEDICTION. 



THE BENEDICTION. 



Into the night of the world came the word 

"Let there be Hght ;"' 
Trenil)led each dormant thing when it had 
heard. 
Burst then from countless throats 
Long-hushed, imprisoned notes, 
Loosed from the night ; 
Gems that had lusterless lain in the gloom 
Radiant shone as shines faith through the 
tomb 
Blessing the sight ; 
Glory had come 
Breathing its soul into things that were dumb. 
\\'hen will the W(M-d enter the dark of my 
empty life. 
Easing niA' heart of its useless strife, 
Sweeping niy soul of its bitter night, 
\Mien will be heard, "Let there be light?" 



]28 



THE PASSING OF THE TIVOLI, 



THE PASSING OF THE TIVOLI. 



\Mien man, grown rebellions, relinqnished the 

right 
To all things reflecting God's spiritnal light, 
An angel, in pity, considered the cost, 
And music was left him when Eden was lost. 



And so,little Tivoli, this is goodbye; 

I make it, old friend, 'twixt a laugh and a cry. 

I know by the sigh that will not be repressed 

Another will never hold sway in my breast 

As you have; no structure of new-fangled 
grace 

Can blot from my heart this Bohemian place. 

I love your old back-breaking, hard seated 
chairs. 

Your quaint, little, dark, nesthng boxes up- 
stairs 

Where many a man. under stress of the play, 

Has said foolish things he regretted next day. 



129 



THE PASSING OF THE TIVOLI. 



I love your old stage with its fanciful hue 

Of settings, no stage but this queer one ere 

knew, 
And though your drop-curtain is marvelous, 

Cjuite, 
I haven't the heart of a critic to-night, 
For all the defects you so frankly reveal 
Are lost in the honest regret that I feel. 



The Catskills? Why, yes, I have seen them 
before, 

And old Rip Van \\'inkle, tired, weary, and 
sore; 

Hush ! Hartman is speaking beneath the dis- 
guise 

In a way that brings unbidden tears to our eyes. 

A weird and incongruous, hurrying- throng-. 

Some singing, some tragic, sweeps blindly 
along; 

Old forms and old faces I view from my stall 

Long- since praised or blamed by the Critic of 
All. 

I hear distant music that stirs in my breast 

A whirlwind of passions, then soothes them to 
rest ; 



130 



THE PASSING OF THE TIVOLI. 



For music can cleanse, like a chastening rod, 
And send the starved soul, pleading, back to 

its God. 
The melody wakes a long slumbering sense 
That dies, ere 'tis born, from its own impo- 
tence. 



What's this? Shadow-faces grow dim, and the 

show 
Is not what it was half a minute ago. 
The curtain goes down, and the Tivoli's page 
'Twixt the farce of the world and the farce of 

the stage 
Is finished ; comes silence where laughter has 

dwelt. 
Impatience I may have at other times felt 
Is absent to-night. Old Bohemian place, 
I make my adieux with a sorrowful face. 
Let's walk down your aisle for the last time, 

and try 
To whisper goodnight, and forget 'tis goodbye. 



131 



FOR LOVE OF THE BURDEN. 



FOR LOVE OF THE BURDEN. 



Should some lirig-ht rav of kindly fortune 

shine 
To guide me from this long-familiar way 
And fill my cup of gall with sweetest wine — 
Should I be shown the victor's shining crown. 
Yet sadly would I turn me from today 
And with reluctance lay the burden down. 



'Tis not possession but pursuit that gives 
The charm to conquest, and in distance lies 
The beck'ning hope of every soul that lives. 
Who turns his face to'ard light that gleams 

afar 
Feels naught of storms that fret the nearer 

skies 
And knows no darkness seeing but the star. 



132 



]?0R LOVE OF THE BURDEN. 



Heights gained but furnish leisure to look 

back 
On mist-enshrouded wrecks that strew the 

night. 
O, let me strive along the tortuous track, 
The task before me ever to be done ; 
O, let me ever know^ some luring light 
And have some sfoal forever to be won. 



133 



A DIGS. 



'A BIOS." 



"A Dios." 'Twas lightly spoken, 
Each heart left the other broken, 
Without guessing that "twas so; 
Checking tender words that started. 
They, like strangers, coldly parted. 
"A Dios." Each turned to go. 

"A Dios." When love came trembling- 
Over thirsting lips dissembling, 
Then the words they would have said. 
Quick were killed in jest and laughter; 
But the pain in each heart after. 
Proved Love wounded, but not dead. 

"A Dios." Is this the ending, 
This the sun of love descending 
Or the dawn that faintly glows? 
Maybe some bright morning, after 
Love has concjuered jest and laughter, 
Thev will meet again. Who knows? 



134 



THE SUICIDE. 



THE SUICIDE. 



What harm should we snuff out this feeble 

light 
And leave the broken thing- in which it burns 
Rayless and shadowless within the night? 
Wdiat harm if finally is quenched the spark 
And that which men call s]Hrit never turns 
In resurrection from eternal dark? 



The primitive close-threatens with its rote. 
Wherefore we sit enwrapped within our creed 
Lest instinct wake to reason's falt'ring note. 
Could man go back through artificial years 
To ponder symbols held within the seed 
Where then the hope now rainbow^ed through 
his tears? 

What better light can show on troubled way 
Of tired, far-journeying pilgrim, than the 

thought 
That this Avere all ; that there will dnwn no dav 



135 



THE SUICIDE. 



When he shall rise to lessons strange and new, 
When tangled problems shall again be 

wrought 
And other tear-blotched pages copied through. 

Dunil) things that come upon the way of death 
Are helped by such crude art as man may boast 
And hastened from the pain of fretful breath ; 
But man condemns if man thus leaps the goal. 
Through fear he tortures, where he loves 

the most, 
Because some night-tale whispers of a soul. 



136 



THE PHANTOM. 



THE PHANTOM. 



In heaven's name, what shape art thou, 

\\ ith threat'ning- glance and beethng- brow, 

That comes with bloodshot eye to dart 

A chill of terror through my heart? 

Thy tears turn, dripping, into blood 

That stains thy front with crimson flood. 

Away ! I bear thy sight with pain, 

Nor dare to break my peace again. 

"Not so," it cries, "I'll ever stay 

"Beside thee close, each hour, each day, 

"And when the grave shall yawn at last 

"I'll still be near. I am thv Past." 



137 



AN EPISODE. 



AN EPISODE. 

Her eyes met mine; 

I saw a light, half smold'ring, shine 

W^ithin their dusk. 

I hoped. Cold grew her glances then 

And seemed to speak denial when 

Her eyes met mine. 

Had it but seemed 

Or had I in some fever dreamed 

Her eyes spoke love? 

Why tremulous her voice and low, 

Why seek to hide her cheeks' red glow, 

Had it but seemed? 

She turned aside. 

"Tis well we're given wit to hide 

The truth within, 

Or else she had to me confessed 

The love she stifled in her breast 

And turned aside. 



138 



HOPE. 



HOPE. 



Out somewhere from the darkness of the East 

Three travelers come; 
Content in what they fail to understand 
Each moves across the heat-veiled desert sand 
As though he held a chart within his hand; 
Their fervor, by each hardship but increased, 

Makes C[uestion dumb. 



These, strong- in forceful trust of some strange 
pow-er 

To guide aright. 
Oft see a vision fill the star-lit wild 
Where shine the features of the Virgin, mild ; 
They kneel in worship to the king, her child, 
And trembling cry, ere comes the natal hour, 

"Behold the lio-ht!" 



139 



HOPE. 



Thus, on each barren life there shines some 
star 
To cheer its night, 
Some force deep sprung from sources that will 

win 
Hearts back to hope, although there lies within 
But rotting wrecks of glories that have been. 
Thus each soul through the darkness finds afar 
The guiding light. 



140 



THE SIREN. 



THE SIREN. 

Near a spot where the voice of the whispering 
pines 

Calls low to the drone of the sea, 

Near the buoy that sways to the turbulent roll 

Of the surf as it sweeps o'er the crag-breasted 
shoal, 

There's a cabin, a tiny, wee bit of a place 

That drowsily rests in the cliff's warm em- 
brace, 

And the world may not trespass within the 
confines 

Of its poppy-flecked fields and its clustering- 
vines. 

There is life in the breath of the salt-laden 

spray 
That drenches the rocks at its feet. 
There is peace in the song of the sea, gay or 

grave. 
And a history lies in the froth of each wave. 



THE SIREN. 



And we, of the world, stand aloof, loath to go, 
Forg'etting' awhile the unrest that we know, 
Forgetting the power that we bend to obey. 
Till we turn, with regret, to the old beaten 
way. 

Here's the infinite peace we have looked for so 

long, 
Here is life freed from trammeling care ; 
But a voice from afar calls with mystical force 
And the yearning we nourish is sapped at its 

source ; 
We harken no more to the soul's plaintive cry 
But sink back 'neath the spell of the world's 

Lorelei. 
There's no rest for the heart that has thrilled to 

the song 
Of the siren that sings in the hum of the 

throne. 



142 



TO MY PIPE. 



TO MY PIPE. 

Come down, old fellow ! with shame-bowed 

head 
I take you up from }-our dusty bed; 
I feel regret and a just remorse, 
And blame myself and my vapid course, 
That I, the dolt, could have put you by 
For a maiden's wish and a maiden's sigh. 

Come down, old fellow! we meet again; 
To-day is not what the day was, when 
I thrust you back in the shadows, dim, 
In deference to a woman's whim. 
No wondrous maid that the world e'er knew 
Could chain a man to her heart like you. 

Come down, old fellow! What, friend! think 

}'OU 

That any one, now, could part us two? 
What fervid kisses from scarlet lips 
Could thrill me thus to my fingers tips? 
Dear, brown, old fellow, I bless the sprite 
'Hiat gave me freedom, and you, to-night. 



143 



THE ROSE. 



THE ROSE. 



Light from rubies, caught and held 
In each petal. From its bosom 
Sweet, seductive perfume welled. 

Careless, winged a butterfly. 
Passes near the siren's beauty. 
Loiters, trembles — flutters by. 

Wheeling on uncertain wing 
Back he flies, now unresisting — 
Back to woo; to love; to cling. 

He, replete with love, ne'er guessed. 
Yesterday the bee was fondled 
Close within that scarlet breast. 

That to-morrow would be heard. 
Not unwillingly, the pleading 
Of impassioned humming-bird. 



144 



WHAT KING? 



WHAT KING? 

What king have we to-day; the one whose 

blood 
Dark-stained the aspen cross of Calvary 
That man might be regenerate throngh its 

flood ? 

Or build we temples underneath His stars 

For worship of the hour's divinity 

And bend the knee to Plutus, Bel, and Mars? 

Each glade an altar hides, each rock a shrine, 
Rare insense swings to Venus, as of old, 
Through cannon's mouth is Odin spake divine. 

Great Bacchus still beneath his vine sits 

crowned 
Dispensing comfort to these followers 
On whom all other oracles have frowned. 

Unstable as the gods to whom they pray 

Men kneel, low-bowed ; each dawn comes 

cjuestioning, 
"What king does man go forth to crown to- 
day?" 



145 



THE POPPY. 



THE POPPY. 



Once a poppy grew 
(If the tale be true) 
On a hillside bare; 
And two wooers bold 
For her heart of gold 
Fought a battle there. 



Now. the Sun and Dew 
Were the good knights true 
Of this fickle one ; 
And with lance of light 
Put the Dew to flight. 
Did Sir Knight, the Sun. 



Then the victor passed 
With the day, at last. 
To his home and rest, 

146 



THE POPPY. 



And the vanquished lay 

In the twiHght gray 

On the loved one's breast. 



When a new day dawned, 
Though her lovers fawned, 
She was co}' and shv 
And she looked far down 
On the distant town 
With a longing eye. 

"Could I feel and know 
All its life and show 

'Twould be sweet, in truth. 
Like an ans^vered prayer 
She was carried there 
Bv a careless vouth. 



Then the sun went down 
On the hill and town, 
And the poppy sweet, 
Lay all soiled and torn, 
.A.11 forgot, forlorn. 
On the crowded street. 



147 



THE POPPY. 



Then the dew came down 
On the hill and town, 
But the poppy, tossed 
In the swirl and strife 
Of a larger life 
Had been crushed and lost. 



148 



LOVE S SPAN. 



LOVE'S SPAN. 

The fleecy clouds in the heavens high 
Beneath the Hg-ht of an opal sky 

Showed tints of morn; 
The blush that over the landscape lay 
Spoke tender hopes for a glorious day, 

When love was born. 

The sun's caress woke the slumb'ring glade 
And turned the light to a deeper shade 

On brook and mound, 
No sign betrayed in the glowing west 
The storm-cloud trembling with dark unrest, 

When love was crowned. 

The world was hushed when the sun went 

down ; 
It left the sky 'neath its threat'ning frown 

An angry red, 
And hope went out with the dying light 
As day gave place to a starless night — 

When love was dead. 



149 



BESIDE THE BIER. 



BESIDE THE BIER. 

Poor, cold, dead face; poor lips that weakly 

part, 
Irresolute, unchanged. The tear-drops start 
And shame the angry sorrow at my heart. 

Before they came, before the word was said. 
Before the watchers hovering round your bed 
Were yet aware, I knew that you were dead. 

How ? How do captives know their chains are 
gone ? 

How know the wounded that the barb's with- 
drawn ? 

How does the darkness know of coming dawn? 

You were the millstone of uncertain fate; 
Down, inch by inch, I sunk beneath the weight 
Till I was crushed, despairing, desolate. 

I do not blame. If, from eternity. 

You may look back, I hope that it will be 

To learn how much vou might have been to me. 



150 



THE ROSE OF MONTEREY. 



THE ROSE OF MONTEREY. 



This the story : In a valley 
Steeped within perpetual sunshine, 
In a tropic, sun-kissed valley 
Dwells a dark-eyed senorita : 
Traces still of regal beauty 
Lie upon her aged features. 

Long ago the wand' ring sunlight 
In its course o'er dell and river, 
Ling' ring near the land of roses, 
Saw a sad and bitter parting. 
Saw a tender heart grow heavy 
With uncertain premonition. 
Saw bright eyes unused to weeping 
Dimmed with tears they could not niaster. 
"I will soon return," he whispered, 
" 'Wait me here, I'll not forget you; 
"Take this pure-white rose and plant it 
" 'Neath the shadow of vour window. 



151 



THE ROSE OF MONTEREY. 



"Let it be the sacred emblem 
"Of the love we hold and cherish ; 
"When YOU see its first fair blossom, 
"When you smell its sweet, faint perfume 
"I shall be here close beside you, 
"Hold you in my arms and kiss you, 
"Evermore we'll be together." 
With these words he turned and left her, 
Left her to her hopes and longings. 
To her dreams and sweet illusions. 



Many years the glowing sunshine 
Has been seen upon the sun dial; 
Many years the rose has blossomed ; 
Many years its subtle fragrance 
Has been known to summer zephyrs. 
And the dark-eyed senorita 
Tends it — hoping, trusting, waiting. 
But, 'tis said, the waxen petals 
Pure and faultless in their beauty, 
White at first, as any moonbeam. 
Now lie red beneath the sunshine, 
Faultless still, but red as rubies. 
Red as blood that marks the pulse-lieat 
In the heart of one forsaken. 



152 



IN LOTUS LAND. 



IN LOTUS LAND. 

Let me live within my dreams; 
The joys I know 
From shadows grow; 
Transient Hghts from nothing- bnrning 
Back to nothing swift returning; 
Life can hokl no happiness like that which 
seems. 

Let me love and then forget; 

Each vintage sip 

With careless lip ; 

Drain the cup and then destroy it, 

Hold no memories to cloy it ; 

I would have no dark remorse to chill and fret. 

Let me keep my altar fires 

Bright with incense from elusive, vague 

desires — • 
Flames well fed; 
Flouting fate, cajoling sorrow, 
Heedless if a sad to-morrow 
Find me dead. 



153 



TO JESSICA. 



TO JESSICA. 

True to my soul as the steel to the pole 
You have been to me e\'er. 
Evil has thrilled me 
And sorrow has chilled me 
Grief and regret for a wasted life filled me ; 
You have been near me 
To comfort, to cheer me, 
Bound firm and fast by a tie none can sever. 
Close to my soul. 

When we are dead and the last word is said 
We will still be together. 
Fear that I'd lose you 
Has made me abuse you, 
Sully your life that your God might accuse 

you ; 
Sin has engrossed you 
And Heaven has lost you 
That I might have you and hold you forever. 
Living or dead. 



154 



WHICH DOES NOT MATTER TO YOU. 



WHICH DOES NOT MATTER TO YOU. 



A youth swore love for a maiden fair, 

(Which does not matter to you) , 
He placed a rose in her auburn hair 
And laid his head on her shoulder fair 
And promised freedom from every care, 
(Which does not matter to you.) 

And like the tale of a minstrel's rhyme, 

(Which does not matter to you). 

He left his home for a certain time 

And sought for wealth in a foreign clime 

And found it — owned by a maid sublime, 

(Which does not matter to you). 

And time went on just as time will do, 

(Which does not matter to you). 
The maiden wept for a day or two 
Because her lover had proved untrue 



155 



WHICH DOES NOT MATTER TO YOU. 



Then patched lier heart with connubial glue, 
(Which does not matter to you). 

And after that the report was spread, 
(Which does not matter to you). 
That youth and maid put in earthy bed 
The cold remains of their spouses dead 
And hid a smile with the tears they shed, 
(Which does not matter to you). 

Above the graves they had met again, 
(Which does not matter to you), 

They whispered things about "might have 
been" 

Which I consider a cardinal sin 

Remembering the place they were talking in, 
(Which does not matter to you). 



And then, one day, it was told to me, 
(Which does not matter to you), 

These twain were one; now they both agree 

That "Was" was nearer felicity 

Than "Is," and sigh for the "Used To Be," 
(Which does not matter to you). 



156 



THE PAST. 



Ami thus it is with the things we crave, 

(Which maybe matters to you), 
We fret and worry and toil and slave 
We reach and struggle, and terrors brave, 
Then scorn the object our efforts gave, 
Which is very much like you. 



THE PAST. 

The past? Ah, question not, dear love. 

Nor jealous be; 
Tlie past was but a time when I 

Awaited thee. 
Ask not to have the present chilled 

By retrospect ; 
The past was but a rock submerged 

A\'here hopes were wrecked. 
I'he past was but a fretful time 

In which I grew, 
By sorrow's scourge, a helpful mate 

And fit for you. 



157 



the; voice of nature. 



THE VOICE OF NATURE. 



From the flush of strange beginning beauty on 

the earth has lain, 
Glorified in flaming sunset, fairy-gemmed in 

crystal rain, 
Lessons, rare, of radiant splendor are in wild 

profusion shown 
WHiile we g-aze in big-eyed wonder like to babes 

in dumbness grown. 



Dormant standing, deep-enamored of the spell, 

with senses swooned, 
Keenly strung to vibrant music only heard of 

hearts attuned. 
Helpless in our deep emotion, speechless where 

we would reveal, 
Vain the fettered tongue endeavors to portray 

the thing we feel. 



15S 



THE VOICE OF NATURE. 



Frail we are in understanding' when onr sleep- 
ing souls awake, 

Conscious of but futile effort through the halt- 
ing flights we take. 

Masterful the changing story told in yellow 
leaf and sear. 

Wondrous is the swelling anthem known to 
him who will but hear. 



Call him sculptor who in marble clothes the 

song his heart has heard. 
Call him poet who from Nature has preserved 

one throbbing word, 
Each attempts to paint the glory of the thing 

as it is shown 
But he ever mars the picture by crude touches 

of his own. 



159 



TO TOMBSTONE II. 



TO TOMBSTONE II. 

(the press club's cat.) 

Thy gaze, transfixed, disdains my presence, 

small, 
And lingers on creations of thine own ; 
The twitching of thy lip betrays the strange 
And startling wonders of thy retrospect. 
Perchance these walls give place to jungle 

briars, 
And curious gapers turn to hunted prey? 
Perchance within thy reminiscent brain 
Lurk dreams of summer nights when stealthy 

forms 
Cast undulating shadows 'neath the moon? 
I think 'tis so ; despite thy stolid mien, 
A sudden light burns green within thine eyes, 
Ferocious hate leaps high as thought recalls 
How mortal cunning wrought thine impotence. 
By means unworthy living thing, save man, 
They have thee caged, and harmless, by a 

trick. 



160 



TO TOMBSTONE II. 



They took thy body captive, but thy pride 
Remains thine own, and clothes thy haughty 

form 
In solemn garb of peerless majesty. 
I gaze at thee and feel my littleness, 
And slink away, ashamed that man presumes 
From his conceit, to call himself thv lord. 



161 



DREAMS. 



DREAMS. 



Lips there are that crave the touch of lips they 

may not press, 
That laugh above the heart's dead weight of 

hopeless weariness, 
That sometimes paler grow beneath the starved 

soul's futile cry 
And tremble with the fervor of desires that 

will not die. 



Hands, there are, press other hands but love's 
wild thrill is dead. 

Lips speak to lips, but hearts no more are 
reached by what is said. 

There come fleet dreams, like transient mist, 
of joys that fate withholds, 

And longings of such bitter pain that hopeless- 
ness consoles. 



162 



RETROSPECTUS. 



No rose so red but fragrance from one redder 

blows afar, 
No night so fair Ijut that another shows a 

brighter star, 
Old wines we crave but old love sometimes 

fails the one athirst ; 
No virtue breathes in constancy when vagrant 

dreams are nursed. 



RETROSPECTUS. 



Live not in musty retrospect, but try 
To find the rift within the clouded sky, 
And let the cold, dead past in shadow lie — 

Lot's wife looked back. 
Come, pour libations, bid the minstrel play. 
To-day shall cjuestion not of yesterday. 
To-morrow shall know nothing of to-day. 



163 



WHO PAYS? 



WHO PAYS ? 



Who is it that pays 

For the words that are uttered in careless jest, 

For the vows that are soon forgotten, 

For happiness stirring the vagrant breast, 

For the sHght of the hpsthatwereoncecaressed, 

For the unfulfilled hopes and the sad delays ? 

Some one pays ! 

Who is it that pays 

For the faith that is held at the joyous start 

Of a love that is quickly ended? 

Who dreams that the debt of a truant heart 

Will not have to be met. in its smallest part, 

Will but find that whenever the piper plays 

Some one pays. 

Who is it that pays 

For the glitter and sparkle of Vanity Fair. 

For the pomp and the vulgar showing? 



164 



WHO PAYS 



One half of the world must their muscles bare 
That a few of the favored may feel no care — 
For their languorous nights and their useless 

days, 
Some one pays. 



Who is it that pays 

When the "frighted hills echo a battle cry 

And strang'e dew on the grass is shining? 

A trumpet of death is a monarch's sigh, 

But new subjects are born while the old ones 

die. 
Be it he who is slain or the one who slays 
Some one pays. 



165 



RECOMPENSE. 



RECOMPENSE. 



Before me dead yoii lie; your still, white face, 

Impassive neath my glance. 
Lies strangely patient in its resting place, 

Nor marks the night's advance. 

Alone, we two; no ling'ring pulse-throbs start 

Or quiver at my touch. 
I could not hold such hate within my heart 

Had I not loved so much. 

I'd gladly die could I but break your rest 

And bring you back to men. 
That I might plunge this dagger in your breast 

And watch you die again. 



166 



A PARADOX. 



A PARADOX. 



Had you listened when I pleaded. 
Had you paused or hesitated 
Or one wish of mine conceded, 
Had a wave of weakness crossed you- 
Had you yielded — I had lost you. 

Yours was not an easy trial ; 
Evermore I'll hold you dearer 
For your words of proud denial ; 
Had your duty less engrossed you, 
You were mine and I had lost you. 

In the dead and sodden embers 
AYhere lie passions long forgotten. 
Such a love a man remembers. 
'Mid th.e ruins lying scattered 
Stands one idol still unshattered. 



167 



A SPANISH SERENADE. 



A SPANISH SERENADE. 



Come to thy casement, love, let me behold thee ; 
Nigiit will be sweeter, far, if thou but linger 

near. 
Soft sings the nightingale, sings near thy 

window, 
Telling his mate of love, passionate, sincere. 
Queen of my life, let me repeat his story, 
Close not thy heart, O, do not turn away, 
Bid me but hope, 'twill fill the night with glory ; 
Be thou my queen, let me, thy slave, obey. 



Love is an ember that we should keep glowing; 

Do not destroy the spark from which the flame 
is fed. 

For naught shall gi\'e it life once it has per- 
ished. 

E'en lips like thine can not revive it when 'tis 
dead. 



168 



LOVES ENEMY. 



Then fill the time with joys for which F 



m 



sighing ; 



Close in thine arms my exile I'd forget, 

CAve me thy lips, no sweets they hold denying. 

Lest in some sad tomorrow we reeret. 



There's not a flower but knows the love T 

cherish. 
There's not a breeze but whispers, dear, of thee, 
Come, pluck the rose of life, now, ere it perish ; 
Share thou its rich perfume, this night, with me. 



LOVE'S ENEMY. 

Tnvulner'ble my armor is," 

Dan Cupid proudly said ; 
Doubt heard, quick loosed a poisoned dart 

And little Love fell dead. 



169 



'give! give!" 



"GIVE! GIVE!" 



The cry of need, and the cry of greed, 

Is the cry that is heard afar, 

Is the cry that has run since the world was 
l)egnn 

From the ether-rimmed earth to the governing- 
sun 

And has treml)led from star to star; 

The unequal strife in the struggle for life 

Has embittered the upright soul, 

And the god of the purse is the god that we 
curse, 

While we bow to him. hip and jowl. 

This cry is hurled round a purse-proud world. 

Nor is hushed by the helping- hand. 

\\ ho relieves those in need for the love of the 

deed 
Coaxes censure like that for a singular creed 
We come never to understand. 
The cry that will live is the fierce cryof ''Give !" 
Hear the multiple echoes roll ! 



170 



"give! give!" 



Though the g'od of the purse is the g'od that 

we curse, 
Yet we l30w to him, hip and jowl. 

This cry upraised to the god that's praised 

Is unchecked l^y the touch of death, 

And the soft word that slips through the 

child's coaxing lips 
Is the word that is voiced by the wanton who 

strips 
With the blight of her vampire breath. 
The loves that w^e know and the follies we show 
Are forgiven, if full the bowl; 
Though the god of the purse is the god that 

we curse. 
Yet we bow to him. hip an,d jowl. 



171 



WHEN PASSES THE FLAME. 



WHEN PASSES THE FLAME. 



Today you are most kind, 
But kindness, now, seems only anger's cloak; 
Your looks are gentle yet I fail to find 
That joy they once awoke. 

Today you clasp my hand 

And speak soft nothings in my passive ear; 

I listen but I do not understand; 

My heart has failed to hear. 

True love will not abide 
Where inclination has to custom grown, 
And now when thus you linger at my side 
I am as one alone. 

The ember, lying gray, 
May be revived although its flame be sped, 
But who of mortal man can find the way 
To fire the spark that 's dead? 



172 



ON THE LITTLE SANDY. 



ON THE LITTLE SANDY. 

Just within the mystic border of Kentucky's 

l^lue grass region 
There's a silver strip of river lying idly in the 

sun, 
On its banks are beds of fragrance where the 

butterflies are legion 
And the moonbeams frame its glory when the 

summer day is done. 

There's a little, rose-wreathed cottage nestling 
close upon its border 

Where a tangled mass of blossoms half con- 
ceals an open door, 

There's a sweet, narcotic perfume from a gar- 
den's wild disorder. 

And the jealous poppies cluster where its kisses 
thrill the shore. 

From across its dimpled bosom comes the half- 
hushed, careful calling 



173 



ON THE LITTLE SANDY. 



Of a whippoorwill whose lonely heart is long- 
ing- for his mate, 

And the snn aslant the sleepy eyes of fox- 
gloves gently falling 

Tells the fisherman out yonder that the hour 
is growing late. 



From the branches of the poplars a spasmodic 

sleepy twitter 
Comes, 'twould seem, in careless answer to the 

pleading of a song. 
And perhaps the tiny bosom holds despair 

that's very bitter 
For his notes are soon unheeded by the little 

feathered throns;. 



Then the twilight settling denser shows a rush- 
light dimly burning— 

Ah, how well I know the landing drowsing 
'neath its feeble beams. 

And my homesick heart to mem'ries of the 
yesterday is turning 

While I linger here, forgotten, with no solace 
but mv dreams. 



174 



IF YOU HAD KNOWN. 



IF YOU HAD KNOWN. 



If you had known 

That 'neath my glance indifferent, the seeds 

Of lo^'e were sown, 

Would you so brief have held 

My proffered hand 

^^'ithin vour own? 



If you had guessed 

The thrill of passion that your touch awoke. 

Would you have pressed 

My hand in careless mood, 

Or clasped me close 

Unto your breast? 



THE BURDEN. 



THE BURDEN. 



Within the temple purple windows threw 
Their solemn light athwart the silent aisles, 
And length'ning shadows into twilight grew; 
Still Zarick knelt, unwilling to depart. 
So heavy was the sorrow at his heart. 

"Great Oracle," he cried, "behold my grief, 
"I sink beneath the burden of my life; 
"O, guide me to some haven of relief. 
"No man of woman born can know the stress 
"That I endure from utter wretchedness." 



"Go search the world," a solemn voice replied, 
"And give thy life in full exchang'e for one 
"That thou may'st choose ; thou shall not be 

denied." 
In fervent thanks he lifted up his voice, 
And joyfully went forth to make his choice. 



176 



THK BURDEN. 



The Eastern sun full many seasons rolled 
Across the spice-breathed air of Orient shores ; 
Full many months the temple bells were tolled, 
Yet Zarick came not; then, one solemn night 
An old man knelt beneath the altar light. 



"Great One," he said, "I've searched through 

hut and hall, 
"And found no man untouched by sorrow's 

breath ; 
"My burden was the lightest of them all ; 
"No space o'erlooked, no road but I have trod 
"And all have suffered, all havekissedtherod." 



177 



JOHN BRADFORD S PRAYER. 



JOHN BRADFORD'S PRAYER. 



John Bradford stood at the entrance gate of 

a jail in L,udh)w Square; 
He saw a man led forth to die, and he offered 

up a prayer. 

He offered up, for himself, a prayer, as but 

pious people can 
W'ho follow rules of the cloth and creed, did 

this conscientious man. 

He offered up for himself a prayer 'neath the 

archway drear and dim. 
And thanked the Lord that another man was 

to die instead of him. 

He used the harassing circumstance of the 

checkered life near run 
To call to notice his godliness, and to draw 

comparison. 



17S 



JOHN BRADFORD S PRAYER. 



He laid the list of his Christian deeds in the 

Master-Hand on high, 
But not a word was there said for him who 

was going forth to die 

He prayed so much of his own affairs, and 

they took so long to tell, 
The hangman's key to the great unknown set 

ajar the gates of hell. 

And thus a soul sped its way unchecked by an 

interceding prayer, 
While Bradford muttered his mummery, to his 
God, in Ludlow Square. 



179 



LOVE S FALLACIES. 



LOVE'S FALLACIES. 



It is not in the blare of the noonday glare 
That the red of the wine invites; 

We mnst borrow the grace of the time and place 
To give color to soft delights. 

It is not in the heat of the crowded street 
That we seek for the shaded pool, 

We would travel in vain o'er the burning plain 
For the gush of the fountain cool. 

Eyes that seem to us bright by the candle's light 
May but commonplace be and dim, 

And the lips we think red have their beauty 
sped 
When removed from the glass's rim. 

Though we know that the smile which we hold 
awhile 
Is but dross of a base alloy, 



180 



MY PLEA. 



Yet we marry false sighs to unblushing lies 
And then christen the offspring "Joy." 



But, O, never believe that we once deceive 

Or once, satisfy, e'en in ])art 
Bv the shadows that pass with the empty glass, 

The deep call of the }'earning heart. 



MY PLEA. 



When God's good angel sadly questions me 
As to my fitness for eternity, 
I'll say you loved me, and when that is done 
My sins will be forgiven, and heaven won. 



181 



A PICTURE. 



A PICTURE. 



Gray the sky ; the earth was gray ; 
Smoke from sacrificial altar. 
Darkl\- hca\}-, trailed away. 

Near the shrine a woman stood. 
And, as insense to Ambition. 
Burned the wealth oi womanhood. 

Desolate to heart and eye ; 
Not a trace of color trembled 
'Neath the gravness of the sky. 

Near the work the artist stood. 
"What is this."" at last I ask her. 
"Why portra\- such solemn mood?" 

Stillino- then an inward strife, 
With disi)assion born of ])atience. 
"Idiis."" she answers, "is mv life." 



182 



A PICTURE. 



In my glance deep passion g-jows, 
And np(in the sacred altar 
Onick 1 paint a scarlet rose. 

Long- the rose of scarlet la^• 
On the altar of Ambition, 
Flnshing red the sky of gray. 

Tired, one da}-, and callons grown, 
She, with brnsh annihilating, 
Gave Ambition back its own. 



Bnt the cruel hand, 'tis said 
Hesitating- in its firmness. 
Left behind a blush of red. 



183 



THE ROAD OF A GREAT DESIRE. 



THE ROAD OF A GREAT DESIRE. 



There are bridges, once crossed, that 'twere 

wise to burn 
On the road of A Great Desire, 
There are havens of rest that 'twere well to 

spurn, 
There's the touch of a hand we may not return; 
Place all longings, save one, on Ambition's pyre 
Ye who travel the road of A Great Desire. 



There are faces so young and with hearts so 

old 
On the road of A Great Desire, 
In their eyes lie the shadows of hopes untold; 
Though the pulses beat swift yet the IjIocxI is 

cold. 
For they know but the lust of Ambition's tire 
Thev that travel the wav of A Great Desire. 



184 



LOVE S RECOMPENSE. 



There's a shrine bathed in warmth of the 
world's caress 
On the road of A Great Desire, 
It is reached throug-h tlie \'ane}^ of Weariness 
And the g'od of the temple is called Snccess ; 
Lay the dreams yon have known on its altar iire 
Ye who've tra\'eled the way of A Great Desire. 



LOVE'S RECOMPENSE. 



The ano-ry billows lash the seam-marked face 
Of }'on(ler whitening", bleak, sea-girdled rock; 
A thonsand st(M-ms have swept its rng"g'ed form ; 
It stands impervious to stress and shock. 

No jag'g-ed hurt that e\'er scarred its sides 
But seemed a privilege, made doubly blest. 
Were it endured to shield the cherished life 
Of that frail lichen clino-ino- to its breast. 



185 



TO MY BOOKS. 



TO MY BOOKS. 



Old friends, xoxw pardon. I am come again 
Back from the social littleness of men 
Contrite and deeply shamed that I was Inred 
And ronndlx' [junished by the pain endnred. 

From ont some vanity of mine it grew. 
Oread wastes of cmptv words ]'\e floundered 

through, 
Deceixed in false sup])orts at whicli I caughi. 
1\) sink- at last 'neath seas of wacuous thouglit. 

If mental suffering can shrixe the sin 

Of seeking social paths to wander in 

Then I was blameless scarce the way was won 

And stood forgiv'n, with ever}- ])enance done. 

I Io\\- ])eaceful liere : \'ou stand in silent row 
Keflecting hack the hrclight's genial glow 



ISG 



TO MY BOOKS. 



In wealth of welcome you so w^ell express 
Which not to feel would be to love you less. 

No more, old friends. T know^ man tends to 

good 
'Neath mem'ry of fresh suffering's withstood, 
And scarce I blame you that you wink and leer 
At one who soug"ht the world when vou were 

near. 



187 



LOVES VICTORY, 



LOVE'S VICTORY. 



"I want you to hold me and prize me again. 

"^^d^y spurn me now?" Love cried. 
'T go to lay siege to the Castle of Fame, 

"Where you may not abide.'" 

With sweet, curly head Ijowed in petulant grief. 

With bright eyes filling fast, 
He saucily said, "Though you send me away, 

ni victor ])e, at last." 

One day, from the heights of the Castle I gazed 

O'er hopes that used to be. 
O'er vears that were dead ; then my heavy heart 
said, 

"Give Love the victorv." 



188 



A CAROL. 



A CAROL. 



Sing", thou, with all thy harmony of voice, 

Let not one throat be dumb, 
Lift up thy drooping spirit and rejoice 

For lo, the King- is come! 

Lay all thy motives l)are ; beneath the sun 

His scepter is thy deeds. 
And every kind and generous action done 

His throne from which He pleads. 

There's joy in every theme, thuugh sadly 
shown ; 

Man's pity did but gloss 
That greatest ecstasy the world has known, 

The sorrow of the cross. 

From world to world stirred pulses that were 
still. 
Where suns had ceased to shine; 



189 



A CAROL. 



All chaos was. 'neath that nielodidus thrill, 
Made cosmic and divine. 

No distant space that failed to understand 

This ]iassion of the Lord, 
Futnrity was circled by His hand 

In one great master-chord. 

Sino'! Sino"! Through all the morning of thy 
life. 

And sing to greet its night; 
He finds the harmon^■ within the strife 

A\dio reads life's score aright. 

Learn from the cognate llni^^erse thy song; 

Thrice blessed he who hears 
And understands the cadence that has long 

Swung rhythmic round the spheres. 



190 



THE VOYAGERS. 



THE VOYAGERS. 



With oars at rest, content to drift, and dream, 
Responsive swinging where each current sets, 
One idles down the bosom uf the stream 
With win uf waves no issue to dispute, 
W'itli lielm lung dn ip])ed from hands irresolute. 

Another craft upon the river rides, 
Fast sweeping- on beneath each steady stroke, 
AA'ith helm hard set against the changing tides; 
It braves the tortured nig-ht, the wind-swept day, 
h^orever keeping on its charted wav. 

To float amung the lilies near the shore, 

And build bra\'e ])lans to reach the harbur 

lights 
Should danger threaten in the tempest's roar, 
No broken oars, no muscles strained and tired. 
Ah, surely this were way to be desired. 



101 



IN RETROSPECTION. 



A cloud u'ershades the red, low-drooping sun. 
Of him who bared his strong' arms to the work 
The storm-g'ods tell that port was liravely won. 
Of him who dreamed and dri^'ted? Ask the 

night 
Where now the mast that held his puny light. 



IN RETROSPECTION. 



Could I turn back all the leaves of life, 
Correct the blunders and soothe the strife; 
Could I blot out e\'ery dark deed done, 
Make good each triumph unjustly won; 
Could I live free from the faults of men, 
I would not. Living my life again, 
I'd do each deed as I did it then. 
This life were surely a tiresome page 
If man, arriving at sour old age. 
Have nothing braver t(^ grace his l)ier 
Than a prudent life and a just career. 



192 



DON T WORRY. 



DON'T WORRY. 



Though not (jne of your fanciful schemes 
comes to light, 

Dun't you worry; 
You have had the fond pleasure of thinking 
they might, 

So don't worry. 
Though the page is all hlotted and thumb- 
marked and torn, 
There's a God up above who has seen what 

you've borne, 
And who tem])ers the wind to the lamb that is 
shorn. 

So don't worry. 



Though the bauble you longed for looks cheap 
in your hand, 

Don't you worry; 



193 



DON T WORRY. 



Though you sink where you thought it was all 

solid land, 

Don't you worry. 
Like the bahy, you see the sun's glint on the 

wall, 
And you struggle to clasp it — 3.'0U stumble, and 

fall; 
Then you find you have gathered a shadow — 

that's all — 

But don't worry. 



Though the play is played out and the curtain's 
rung down. 

Don't you worry ; 
Though the features of life wear a turbulent 
frown, 

Don't }'nu worry. 
Though the other man wins, and you lose, in 

the race. 
Don't you let the world know ; put a smile on 

^•( tur face ; 
There are always your pistols up there in tlieir 
case. 

So don't worry. 



194 



THE PESSIMIST. 



THE PESSIMIST. 



There is no rose on the broad, bleak earth 
Worth the labor put forth to raise it ; 
No scarlet mouth, framed in dimpling- mirth, 
Worth the 1)reath that it takes to praise it. 

There is no song like the one that's heard • 
In the time of a life's beginning; 
No woman's love worth the empty word 
That we waste in its useless winning. 

There is no day with its sordid strife 
Worth the serious thought we give it. 
No passing hour in a careless life 
Worth the trouble it takes to live it. 

Yet pluck the rose while you chance to live. 
Hold your pleasures as you may find them, 
Forget, in joys that those red lips give. 
The erin of the skull behind them. 



195 



TO-DAYS ROYALIST. 



TO-DAY'S ROYALIST. 



I'd like to have lived in the time of Queen Bess, 

When duels and battles were rife, 
When swords were the popular form of redress. 

And insults were paid for with life; 
I'd like to have lived when the commoner dwelt 

Apart, in a world of his own ; 
Have died ere the time that he voiced what he 
felt 

And placed his own spawn on the throne. 

I'd like to have felt the self-satisfied thrill 

Unlimited power can afford ; 
I'd like to have lived when a gentleman's will 

W^as urged at the point of his sword. 
Instead of to-day when "Equality's" rule 

Puts "Rights" in the mouths of the clan. 
When works of the sage can be jeered by the 
fool, 

WHien master's no better than man. 



196 



TO-DAY S ROYALIST, 



I'd like to have lived when the ermine embraced 

None other than royalty's form; 
I'd like to have lived before caste was effaced 

Beneath tlie mob's leveling- storm; 
I'd like to have lived when the form of restraint 

Held commonwealth under the man. 
And felt what it was to be free from the taint 

Of "Liberty's" plebiscite ban. 



197 



WOMAN. 



WOMAN. 



liclicxc that \-on(lcr stoin-hcartcd shore 
Will spare the ship blown thither by the gale; 
I'eliexe there's mildness in the ocean's roar 
And gentleness witliin the tempest's wail; 
i)elie\e that tigers, thirsting after blood, 
lielie then- stripes and let their x'ictims go, 
lUit ne'er believe whencomesmisl'ortnne's tlo(Kl 
That Avoman will to woman mcre\- show. 



W'obes I'raternize \\hen bent npon attack. 

Their lumting cr\- holds no discordant nc^te, 
They face a common danger, back to ])ack 
Then, true to nature, tear each other's throat; 

And not alone on heath and wooded strip 

Does this, the law (vf fang, aggressive loom; 

Wolves, wrajiped in \eh-et, rend with thirsting 
hp 

And wa^e their wars in e\er\- drawinij" room. 



198 



WOMAN. 



To Ijreed dissension is in wnnian Ijorn ; 
But some this primal instinct turn aside, 
Affecting charms more suited to adorn 
And 'neath conceits true inclinations hide. 
To seem the thing she's not is woman's care, 
No soul of them from this may stand exempt. 
And none to be her own true self may dare 
Lest she be named an object of contempt. 



Debarred by nature from those rough pursuits 
That outlets are to savagery, each turns 
To rend the other, recking not the fruits 
Of slander and the consequence it earns. 
O, sooner will l)c found the drop of rain 
When once 'tis lost within tlic river's flow, 
O, sooner shall the hilltop kiss the plain 
Than woman shall to woman mercy show. 



199 



THE GRANDEST THING. 



THE GRANDEST THING. 



When hope was young and m}' l)l()od ran rife. 
When homage sweetened the cup of hfe 

And pride was a flame weU fed, 
Thev asked me what was the grandest thing 
That hfe could hold or a fortune luring; 
/Vs (juick as flashes a swallow's wing 
"To conquer men," I said. 



But now the jiale ()f the after-glow 
Reflects the chastening years of woe, 

Endurance bows ni}' head ; 
"Come, tell us now. for we ask again, 
Th.e grandest, holiest task of men," 
Submission prompting, \\'here pride had been — • 
"To concpier self," I said. 



200 



THE PUNISHMENT. 



THE PUNISHMENT. 

Ben Omi stood, with drooping head, 
To hear the final judgment read 
By him who kept the record; 
The accusations 'neath his name 
Recounted deeds for serious blame — ■ 
A thumb-marked page and checkered. 

"Your sins are great," the angel cried, 
'"l know of none who ever died 
"So quite unfit for glory; 
"No punishment that e'er was writ 
"Could shrive your snul and make it fit 
"For even purgatory. 

"And yet — methinks I'll improvise 
"And name a penalty, unwise, 
"But most intensely human; 
" "Tis this : Go back to earth and men, 
"Resume the flesh, be born again, 
"And be, this time, a woman!" 



201 



THE PRAYER. 



THE PRAYER. 

Lurd, God, hear Thou a siipphant. Aljject 
All crimson-stained, 1 cringe, lest Thou, in 

wrath 
At ni)' presumption, raise Thy mighty hand 
And crush the worm that dares to lift its head 
In cjuiv'ring fear to Thine omnipotence. 
The years Thou gav'st I've drunk like honeyed 

wine. 
In eager grasp to burning lips and heart 
I've pressed the sweets ()i life, and drained the 

dregs 
Of every worldly pleasure. Lord, I dare — 
Yea, I! a lep'rous tiling — the crawling things 
Of earth of which art 'shamed — I. dare to come 
Before Thy face. 

Lord, God, liear Thou a suppliant. Outcast, 
World-wearv. l)roken hearted, losing all 
I turn to Thee. 

What's this I've dared to sav? 



202 



THE PRAYER. 



Great One, be blind and deaf, that 1 may snatch 
This blasphemy from out the Great Beyond 
And plunge it back within ni}- withered heart 
To mock its human seltishness. I turn, 
A thing all foul within, unfit for hell, 
A pigmy that infects Thy uni\erse, 
1 turn to Thee when all is lost — Just God ! 
I wonder Thou hast spared so ^'ile a thing 
To soil Thy name. 

Emblazon all my sins ; none can there he 
To equal this most human infamy. 

When once again a supi)liant I come, 
'Twill be to ask if any good deed done 
Can blot from out the angel's record-page 
This prayer. Amen. 



203 



OF THE NANCY PRYNE. 



OF THE NANCY PRYNE. 



Under the deck of the Nancy Pryne 

The captain sits with his flask of wine, 

A pirate bold and a pirate true 

W ith a dirk and a sword that would do for you 

A ereat deal more than \ou"d want it to. 



He drinks a toast to the surging brine, 
This captain bold of the Nancy Pryne, 
Nor hears the shock of the wind and rain. 
'T Ijuried him deep,"" comes the loud refrai 
Of the soup- he sinos in a minor strain. 



The captain drowses above his wine 
Nor feels the lash of the stinging brine; 
The wind moans low in the t(M'tured dark 
And the struggle ends for the straining l)ai 
In a bit of wreck and some corpses stark. 



204 



OF THE NANCY PRYNE. 



This story's trite but the fault's not mine, 
'Tis all that's known of the Nancy Pryne; 
Next morn the song- of the sun-kissed main 
Called forth the gulls that had sheltered lain 
"T buried him deep," was its low refrain. 



205 



15UNDNESS. 



BLINDNESS. 



I^'rom sire to sire for such long cheerless time 

Have we accepted tears as heritage, 

And dol'rous droned through lengths of 

ancient rhyme 
W'itli ceaseless sorrow for unchanging theme, 
That life has come to be a wear}- page 
And joy the phantasm of a fevered dream. 

So long have wrappings of un3'ielding gluom 
Close-swathed the heart, that we resent the 

word 
Which pleads for happiness this side the tomb. 
For us no note of earth must vibrant rise; 
For us the nearer music to be heard 
Is lost in seeking that of distant skies. 

We call him i)agan who in gladness strips 
]M"om glowing truth the dull, dogmatic sheath, 
And kisses pleasure full upon the lips; 



206 



BLINDNESS. 



We call him Christian who embraces care, 
Who hunts the thorns to weave in crowning- 
wreath — 
For hea\en more tit if girded by despair. 



We leave the brilliant substance for the wraith, 
And deem him sainted by conjoint acclaim 
W ho wears a smileless face in show of faith. 
Like mewling children, of the dark afraid. 
We cling to crude supports, abstruse and lame. 
And keep to doleful covenants, self-made. 

When will the sons of men, as one agreed. 
Consent to read the word that shines above 
Unbound by dwarfing hindrances of creed? 
Wdien will the fallacies to which we cling- 
Be merged in one gieat universal love? 
Wdien will \ve say "The Father," not "The 
King?" 



207 



THE AWAKENING. 



THE AWAKENING. 



I loved a man ; the image fair 

Of all the good the world contained 

I pictured him. From out my heart 

The essence of a Icjve divine 

I poured upon my rose-decked god, 

And sin by sin 1 sacrificed 

Myself upon his altar. 

One dav impoverished, aljashed 

Before mv idol's face I stood. 

And whispered low that all I had 

To give was gi^'en : My woman's heart 

Beat gently sweet, I raised my eyes, 

And lo ! upon that perfect brow 

Satietv sat wearih'. 



208 



AX OLD LETTER CASE. 



AN OLD LETTER CASE. 



On your surface, old and tattered, 
Rest small cupids, ink-bespattered, 
Clasp is gone and lock is shattered. 

Faintly, as I lift the cover. 
Perfume seems to rise and hover 
Close, like words of some old lover. 

Tired, or fearful of derision, 
Here a hand has, with precision. 
Struck a name from curious vision. 

Had you voice would words be teeming 
Of a love that proved but seeming. 
Idle hope and foolish dreaming? 

Old the story, old the sorrow. 
Nothing new of love we borrow. 
True to-day and false to-morrow. 



209 



AN OLD LETTER CASE. 



Quaint old box, how reads your story? 
Fancies crowd, and tinge with glory 
Lite that was ere you grew hoary. 

Leather worn and satin tattered, 

Cupids, roses, ink-bespattered — 

Like vour owner's dreams — all shattered. 



210 



COMPANIONS. 



COMPANIONS. 



We two; with no ri\al to come between 

To the death of your ruddy fire; 
I have you and my Ixjok and an easy chair, 
And the pictures you paint for me over there; 
And no maid that e\er the world has seen 
Can mar the peace that w'e share, I ween; 
Myself, and my old black brier. 

What secrets we have and what hopes divide 

And what sprites of the past invoke ! 
There are shades of forgotten and dead desire, 
There are lips that e'en rival your scarlet fire, 
And the coal that presses your blackened side 
Seems not more real than the forms that glide 
Through haze of your curling smoke. 

We two ; with a book and an easy chair 
And the cheer of a elowine fire! 



211 



COMPANIONS. 



With the peace of your comradeship aU about, 
With the noise and the stress of the world shut 

out, 
We can scoff at sorrow and smile at care 
And dream of deeds that the l^ravest dare; 
Myself, and my old black brier. 



212 



I THANK THEE. 



I THANK THEE. 



For fortitude to turn harsh words aside; 
For, force of will to humlile stul^born pride; 
For strength of heart to l^ear the liiting scorn 
And arrogance of one beneath me born ; 
For power to hide the hate within my lireast ; 
For outward calm to mask a mind distressed; 
For dogged patience to abide the time 
When I could claim revenge as wholly mine. 
Yes, gratefully. I render thanks to Thee 
For power, at last, to crush my enemy. 



213 



TO MANUELA. 



TO MANUELA. 



Manana? No. The light that's speaking 

In your eyes 
Is the answer I am seekino-. 



Maiiana? TaHsman for sorrow, 

Not for love; 
Love may die before to-morrow. 

And when 'tis dead we may deride it— 

Who shall know? — 
Laugh when we should weep beside it. 

Mariana? No. Ahora ; cherished. 

Lotus-breathed, 
Lived, before 'tis past and perished. 




MANUELA 



THE LIFE OF YESTERDAY. 



THE LIFE OF YESTERDAY 



A\ hat is the use of the toil and striving 
And what will matter the tear and smile. 
The well laid plan and the deep contriving. 
When lost in the dusk of the after-while? 

\\niy fret the flesh with an unhealed sorrow ? 
The world wants laughter, it shares no grief, 
Why slight to-day for a vague to-morrow 
That shadows all hope for the soul's relief? 

Sweet were the faith to believe and cherish 
This life a spark strayed from parent flame. 
To hold no fear that its light will perish — 
Instead of the darkness, the unknown name. 

Saddest of all is to know, at parting-, 
The grief is mine, that the 'world holds none. 
To know the blush of the dawn's faint starting- 
Will shed its red glorv on all — save one. 



215 



THE LIFE OF YESTERDAY. 



If tliere l^e friend who shall mcjurii my g'oing-, 
Though grieved my loss in a single breath. 
'Twill send a thrill throngh my poor clay 

glowing 
And ont of the graxe snatch the chill of death. 



21(5 



THE NEW YEAR BELL. 



THE NEW YEAR BELL. 



Within the music of the New Year Bell, 
I hear a note of triumph rise and swell; 
I hear its rhythmic harmony repeat 
The laughter of a maiden true and sweet; 
Attending close upon the vibrant air 
Comes quivering discord of a past despair; 
Then, lightly leaping from its metal throat, 
The arbitrary schoolboy's careless note; 
With trembling pathos, an adagio slow. 
Deep-voiced and solemn, tells a mother's woe. 
The chimes ring soft, in ecstasy divine, 
I feel a baby's fingers close in mine; 
Then, sweet and clear a cadence speeds along 
That brings to mind a singer — and a song. 
I hide my foolish tears as memories swell 
In true accord with music of the bell. 



217 



love's reign. 



LOVE'S REIGN. 



Poor, halting thing that creeps a Httle way 
Eow-bowed beneath its burden of neglect ; 
It clasps the broken hopes of yesterday 
And trails dead flowers with which its form 
was decked. 

Tear-marked the face that lifts with pleading- 
eyes, 
The lips beg tol'rance of their latest breath ; 
Impatiently we bear reproachful sighs 
And chafe beneath its sickening and its death. 

Dry-eyed we look, at last, on pallid lip. 
Relieved, yet half-ashamed that pulses sing, 
And while the new-crushed vintages we sip 
Crv out. "The King is dead; long live the 
King-." 



218 



WITH NATURE. 



WITH NATURE. 

O, give me the breath of the ocean foam 

Ere the force of the storm be spent ; 
O, give me the width of the world to roam, 
The haU for the night as my only home, 
With my way forever the path apart 
From the haunts mapped out on the toiler's 

chart. 
To me from the silence is ever lent 
Companionship, when I spread my tent 
In the calm of the desert's heart. 

O, give me the shades of the morning- sky 

That reburnish the slopes and rills, 
O, give me the tints where the shadows lie 
Soft-rocked in the sway of the zephyr's sigh 
And I'll crave no boon from the artist's hand 
Though his kindling fame by the world be 

fanned. 
The glow of the dawn that the heaven fills. 
The cjuiv'ring light on the sleeping hills 
Are the things that I understand. 



219 



THE POLE-SEEKERS. 



THE i'OLE-SEEKERS. 



Eruni east tu lujrth, as the petrels tly, 
A snow-squall whips thi'dugh a frozen sky, 
Beneath the swirl of its witiening track 
The sea curls up like a dolphin s back, 
"Twixt lift and fall of the seething gale 
W hite shines the sheet of a ghostly sail. 

O'er sudden decks in a chilling tlood 
Sharp bites the tooth of the tiying scud, 
The crew stands firm though the plowing keel 
Brooks no restraint from the steering-wheel; 
Each man so still that the driving- sleet 
Enwraps his form like a winding-sheet. 

The vessel swerves with a dip and start 
And sets its course l\v the captain's chart. 
If mate and crew mark the swift advance 
They give no sign liy word or glance. 
From rolling seas to a widening slough 
The ship drives on with her silent crew. 



220 



THE POLE-SEEKERS. 



The storm is ceased and the sun-dogs show 
In pnrpHng- hghts o'er the crusted snow; 
The wind that whipped through this land of 

death 
'Twcnild seem had blown with a Lethean breath. 
For if hours have passed, or if days have sped, 
No soul on board could have truly said. 

Ethereal blue at the bow and stern 

That spreads o'erhead an inverted urn. 

And in the rim of its arching bowl 

The mystic swing of the heavens roll. 

The needle swerves in a circling ring 

And the world is hushed while the planets sing. 

The captain bends o'er his chart and book 
Nor heeds the scene by a transient look. 
Arouse thee, man, for thy work is done, 
The bar is past and the goal is won! 
But he makes no sign if his dull eyes see. 
He is done with earth and its mockery. 

The ship sweeps on through the wind-tossed 
sea, 

Through the ice-packed, shoal-ringed, threat- 
ening sea, 



221 



THE POLE-SEEKERS. 



Till the gray waves break on a storm-worn 

beach 
And the silence hears but the sea-mew's 

screech, 
But the sea-mew's screech and the fur-seal's 

bark, 
And it founders there in the angry dark. 

The pole-star shines with a murky light. 
Like an astral sun, with a frozen light; 
O'er the glacier beds and the ice-flow's spire 
The auroras flash in a fan of fire, 
And they mock the forms of the corpses stark 
On the ship that died in the outer dark. 

The frost hangs thick on the stove-in hull, 
On the snow-sheathed, wave-pressed, battered 

hull. 
And the tide bears hard on the weakened 

beams 
Till it saps the strength of the hemp-calked 

seams. 
Till it sweeps away every telltale mark. 
Lest a {ney be lost to the unknown dark. 



222 



WHEN CHRIST IS RISEN. 



WHEN CHRIST IS RISEN. 



A mystic joy sweeps o'er the drooping work! 
Where yesterday a pall of sorrow- swirled 
Its S(ileniii length from vale to brow of hill; 
Each tiny atom sings with cjuickening thrill 
And Nature cries with one according In-eath; 
"All hail, 'tis Jesns, King of Nazareth!" 
lint man still questions. Fearful lest his eyes. 
Schooled in deceit, deceive himself, he cries, 
"The proof?" In answer, lo, the bleeding- 
hands. 
What creeping life so pitiful as man's? 
The word was given him iov a higher goal 
Else this last shame had forfeited his soul. 



223 



THE STAR. 



THE STAR. 



The night shut in with black and threatening- 
frown 
When o'er ni}- trouJjled world the sun went 

down, 
Koreljodings marked the time with vague dis- 
tress 
That bound me prisoner to hopelessness, 
And darkness seemed more fearful to my sight 
From having known the glory of the light. 



The h(iurs dragged on; I raised my drooping 

head 
But not in hope, I knew the sun was dead, 
And planned no life be}ond the black expanse 
When, lo. I saw a wondrous light advance 
That glowed and grew until it filled the skies. 
I stood and gazed with yearning, doubting- 
eyes. 



224 



THE STAR. 



No more does hope's hurt wing trail idly down, 
No more does nig-ht shut in with threatening 

frown, 
I grie\-e no more liecause the sun is gone, 
Hold no regret for yesterday's lost dawn, 
But bless the salient gloom that reached afar. 
For else how had I ever found the star? 



22S 



THE INEVITABLE. 



THE INEVITABLE. 



Christ is born to-day. Sad heart 

Look up, and hope. 
Those who kneel and still their cries 
Do not know that in His eyes 
Shadow of a cross there lies. 



Love is born to-da}'. j\Iy heart 

Look up, and hope. 
Sweet content is all about; 
But the life blood will drip out. 
Some dav. on a cross of doubt. 



226 



TO ETHEL. 



TO ETHEL. 



The heart's emotion finds no way to speak 
So poor is man in gifts, in words so weak, 
And gratitude within the throbbing breast 
Must ever rest there only half expressed. 

Unskilled I stand to cope Avith what I feel 

So strange this element new joys reveal, 

My heart though not unknown to lighter 

mood 
Is all unused to this of gratitude. 

In other moments I have found the word 
Through which to make some deep emotion 

heard, 
Now fait" ring tongue lacks power to overcome 
Its own incompetence, and so lies dumb. 

Not from ungratefulness, although I claim 
No more of sentiment than others name. 



TO ETHEL. 



From lack of rivulets to feed the spring 
Its waters long- have ceased to purl and sing. 

But now it gushes out in force anew ; 

That this is so, I render thanks to you. 

One sweet, good woman down my path has 

trod 
To make this barren earth seem nearer God. 



228 



DEvSECRATION. 



DESECRATION. 



Ferret them out — ferret them out. 
Label the phinder and liawk it about. 
Dip grasping- fingers deep into the dark. 
Draw from its cover each skeleton stark, 
Secrets, and papers, and letters, long penned, 
The dead would have given his blood to 

defend ; 
No incident leave to the mercy of doubt, 
Ferret them out — ferret them out. 



This is the work for the daughter, the wife, 
Friend that the dead man has trusted in life, 
Each holds some mem'r}' of weakness con- 
fessed. 
Confidence gi\en when heart was distressed; 
These trundle out for the crowd's curious eyes. 
If sacred the trust, then the greater the prize. 
Rest not in your effort till ycxi have unfurled 
All that the dead has kept close from the world. 



229 



DESECRATION. 



Here is a page where his soul was laid bare. 
Ever}' word wild with a heart's threat despair, 
Penned here are thoughts that were never re- 
vealed 
While he had life and his lips were unsealed ; 
Locked in the grave, lacking power to protest, 
Quick-seized is the ])rize and for barter is 

dressed. 
Ye merciless Vandals with talons of greed 
Drag out his heart that the vultures may feed. 



230 



ON THE TAMALPAIS SLOPE. 



ON THE TAMALPAIS SLOPE. 



There's an amljer light a-qiiiver on the euca- 
lyptus trees, 
There's a splash of hery crimson tints the 
wood, 
x'Xnd the tiny brook speaks softly to the per- 
fume-laden breeze 
That replies as though it plainly under- 
stood. 

From beneath the leaf strewn brush-pile th.ere 
is seen a wary nose 
Peeping- out in nervous caution and affright 
Ere its owner ventures yonder to a spot where 
breakfast grows 
A\'ith the dew left fresh upon it by the 
night. 

As a touch of quiet sadness marks the song the 
martin sings 
Near the old nest, long deserted in the glen. 



231 



ON THE TAMALPAIS SLOPE. 



So do hearts imbued with sorrow ever turn 
where mem'ry clings 
And in fancy Hvc their ha]i]>iness again. 

There's a |)ower that turns us ever to'ard the 
helpful light of hope 
Though the chiefest of our projects totter 
down, 
And my guiding star is yonder on the Tamal- 
pais slope 
When I sink beneath the tumult of the 
town. 



232 



HIS ANSWER. 



HIS ANSWER. 

Do I love you? I do, if distrust cau be love; 
If the fear that I feel when I press }-our warm 

hand 
That you'd grant the same favor to some 

other man 
Were the time but auspicious, and I out of 

sight ; 
If the certainty, here, in my heart, that your 

glance 
Will caress me then turn to some other, per- 
chance 
Who has merited less what I deem as my 

right ; 
If the madness that throbs Avhen I feel your 

embrace. 
And despair that o'erpowers when 1 look in 

your face, 
Irres])()nsil)le, weak, x'acillating, untrue — 
If a certain contempt that steals into my breast 
When the overwrought senses are stilled and 

at rest 
Can be love, then, I answer you, yes, that I do. 



233 



THE GOLDEN GATE. 



THE GOLDEN GATE. 



The sun sinks low aiul the hour grows late, 
The clouds drift in through the Gulden Gate ; 
The sea-gulls dip with a whirl and cry. 
They scan the earth and they scan the sky, 
Thev dart and whirl with a restless wing. 
Nor trust the song that the breakers sing; 
They know the purr of the mighty sea 
Presages acts of its treachery ; 
Beneath the droning so soft and low 
They feel the breath of the tempest blow. 

A mother prayed till the hour grew late, 
"Bring mv boy safe home through the Golden 
Gate." 

A troubled ship on the wa\'e is seen. 
Her sails are bright with a silvery sheen. 
She plows her wav through the salty deep. 
While mighty waves o'er her Ijulwarks leap; 



234 



THE GOLDKN GATE. 



I he tempest's tino-er points out her course, 
She s\ver\-es and follows with fateful force; 
She trembles, hesitates, rushes, dips. 
Her white-faced crew with their salt-washed 

lips 
Nor fear nor care for the wind-swept sea. 
They sleep the sleep of eternity. 

A mother prayed till the hour grew late 

And her bo}- went Home, through the Golden 
Gate. 



235 



IN MISSION DOLORES CHURCHYARD. 



IN MISSION DOLORES CHURCHYARD. 



What do they dream of down in their beds 
Lowly and stih. 

With the echoless sound of the lang-uorous 
rill 
TinkHno- in cadences hcjuid and soft 
Throui^ii the night at their feet and the night 

at their lieads? 
Deep in the (hisk of this silent spot 
What is remembered and what foro'ot ? 



What do they hold of hope and regret. 
Laughter and pain — 

Is there naught to disturb l)ut the drip of the 
rain 
Stealing to cheeks that lie pallid and chill? 
What of memory clings where the soul would 

forget ? 
Silent the lips where a song was heard, 
Silence where once spoke a deathless word. 



236 



IX MISSION DOLORES CHURCHYARD. 



This one who Hes here, think you he knows 

Day is above? 

From the cypress near by come the notes of 
a clove 
lining- his passion full-pkiintive and sweet; 
Kind were the song if the poor clay glows 
Thrilling again to a love once known 
Ere the dark moss o'er the heart had grown. 

Linger awhile and fellowship keep 
Him who is lone ; 

Here no trace of a tiower or the mark of a 
stone 
X'entnres dispute with the tangle of briars 
That speak hoarse in the wind of the one that 

lies deep. 
^^'rapt in the dusk of this tranquil spot 
Haply forgetting, and long forgot. 



237 



THE MAN AND WOMAN OF IT. 



THE MAN AND WOMAN OF IT. 



"My vase is broken," she treniljling said; 
The tears feh fast and she drooped her head 
"With tender touch I will mend it true. 
And make believe it's as good as new." 

"My vase is l^roken." he calml}- said; 
"But I'll l)uv another one instead; 
One iust as ])rett\' and just as good, 
And put it there where the old one stood." 



238 



WILL YOU RECALL ME? 



WILL YOU RECALL ME? 



How will it be 

After the iiihnite pain of the parting-, 

The tears and the sorrow? 

After we've crushed each regret at its starting. 

After the night of the old day's departing 

When dawns the tomorrow. 

How will the world look to yon and to me? 

How will it be? 

Will we forget 

Things we have loved and from which we must 
sever. 

Small objects of treasure, 

Dingy, dear books we ha\'e conned well to- 
gether ; 

Trifles of love we have kept thmugh all 
weather 

That happiness measure; 

Things over which love and labor have met, 

W'ill we foreet? 



239 



WILL YOU RECALL MEi 



When all is tlone, 

When our hearts, quickened by stress of their 
aching, 

Prompt lips to dissemble. 

Teaching- them smiles, while beneath hearts are 
breaking. 

Making them prate of the new dawn's awak- 
ing— 

Then, dear, should I tremble. 

Will you recall me, when hope I have none. 

WMien all is done? 



240 



APOTHEGMS FOR THE IDLE. 



APOTHEGMS FOR THE IDLE. 



W'hat were the suninier, stripped of all its 

bloom ? 
What were the world, denying idlers room? 
The serious faces of the spinners left 
Affrighting one another in the gloom. 

Who finds his work in life where pleasure lies. 
Who feasts, though he at last of famine dies. 
Can say that he has lived though he may hold 
No fleeting bauble that the frugal prize. 

Utility and beauty seldom mate. 
And he who turns the idle from his gate 
Perchance but cuts the lily from its stem 
To leave his garden bare and desolate. 

When indolence would plead its own defense 
Turn not away in pride of eminence; 



241 



APOTHEGMS FOR THE IDLE. 



The drone and worker find the common goal 
And He in lengths of equal consequence. 

Withhold the condemnation that would fling 
The cloak of silence o'er the hearts that sing, 
The word of cheer, though voiced by careless 

lips. 
Is ever to he held a priceless thing. 



242 



THE MISER S SONG. 



THE MISER'S SONG. 



My heart is old, is old, is old. 

Its warmth went out with a dream untold, 

The bluod drips slow through each mangled 

fold— 
I heal the hurt with the balm of gold, 
Of gold, of gold. 

My heart is old, is old, is old, 
Is hard and withered, and dead and cold; 
Where once the blood of my pulses rolled 
Now surges greed for the yellow gold. 
For gold, for gold. 

My heart is old, is old, is old. 
And dark and heavy as churchyard mold ; 
For I, like Ji^idas, have smiled, and sold 
My friend, and Ciod, for a piece of gold, 
Of gold, of gold. 



243 



LIFE. 



LIFE. 



I saw a rose in a garden fair, 

A scarlet rose, that I l(Mio-ed to Avear ; 

I beg'ged that Fate would generous be 

And give the beautiful rose to me. 

She shook her head in assumed regret 

And answered, softh', "Not yet, not yet." 

The rose's petals l^eneath the sun 

Unfolded, tenderly, one by one. 

Its rarest leaves were at last unfurled 

And shed their glory upon the world; 

I asked again, but again I met 

The same denial, "Not yet, no yet." 

One day, the color began to fade. 

The scarlet turned to a deeper shade. 

The petals fluttered upon the air — 

Its life was over, the stem lay bare. 

All through my life I have known the pain. 

The harsh derision of this refrain. 

This mournful dirge of a life's regret. 

This mocking echo, "Not yet, not yet." 



244 



FINIS. 



FINIS. 



Around was the evening's twilight glow, 
He softly whispered, "I love you so," 
Lip pressed to lip in warm caress, 
Two hearts aglow with happiness. 

Over the hill in a churchyard gray 
The grass grows rank in a wanton way, 
The water oozes, trickles and glides, 
'Round the husband's bed the earth-worm 

hides, 
The dank mold quivers on lip and chin, 
The worms creep out and the worms creep 

in. 

The bells ring out on the sunlit air, 
The bride is young and the bride is fair. 
The world is throbbing with love and life 
The bridegroom hastens to kiss his wife — 
An ashen pallor o'erspreads her face, 
The dead man stands in her lover's place. 



243 



FINIS. 



The vision is gone — she l)reathes again, 
The minister says, "Till death, Amen." 
The dead goes ])ack to the dead once more 
/Vs far, as close, as he was l)efore, 
And holds his \[gi\ all grim and drear 
rill her conscience cries, "Appear, appear." 



In a coz_\- r( n mi all warm and bright, 
A cheerfnl sight on a winter's night, 
A whispering low, "Alone, at last," 
Is caught and whirled on the icy blast — 
"Alone, alone," it whistles and moans 
And scurries away to the gra\'e}ard stones; 
It snaps the twigs with its chilling breath 
And dances the frantic dance of death ; 
"Alone, alone," it hisses and shrieks — 
The green slime freezes on lips and cheeks. 
Through the clustering curls, the mouth's wide 

grin. 
The w()rms creep out and the worms creep in. 



24G 



T.OVE S ABERRATION. 



LOVE'S ABERRATION. 

She stands beside you l)Ut in sjjirit kneels 
And worships at your feet sucli love she feels; 
Her melting heart grows faint l)eneath its bliss 
An<l glorifies its weakness through a kiss. 
She smiles, and }'ou from your exalted place. 
Rend down to share the hea\'en in her face. 

What subtle change is this }'ou now behfjld.'' 
Wdiat listless form your coaxing arms enfold? 
Vou chide that she is heedless of your sigh 
And meets }-our glance with cold and \-acant 

eye. 
Wdiat ha\-e you done? O, nothing much amiss, 
^'ou"^•e called her Kate, that's all, while she's 

Liliss. 



247 



GROPING. 



GROPING. 

The page of yesterday — how strange the way 

In which its hnes were tilled, 

How changed the import of the deeds we 
^^■illed 
Seen through the consecjuences of to-day. 

The stone that rests upon the mountain-slope 

Is harmless in its bed ; 

A word is but a word until "tis said. 
Then "tis the avalanche that 1)uries hope. 

A\'e turn the thumb-marked leaf; our cares and 
strife 
That have so sore distressed 
We try to bury in a contrite breast 

And seek to write a cleaner page for life. 

But, somehow, when 'tis done and conscience 
wakes 

To run the items o'er, 

We find the same temptations as before, 
The same backslidines and the old mistakes. 



24S 



THE GALLEY-SLAVE. 



THE GALLEY-SLAVE. 



To work; t<^ weep; to strug'gle; to endure: 
To look through tears upon a life's mistake; 
To feel forbidden pleasures tempt and lure; 
To loathe the ties 'twere indiscreet to break ; 
To g-aze upon the cof^ned corpse of love 
With drv, hard eyes; to drain the cup of gall; 
No help below, no hope from heaven above, 
Just vacancy and numbness o\'er all ; 
To have, to hold, to tire, and then, to hate; 
To l)urn the heart out longing to be free; 
This makes up life for that sad child of Fate 
Who mourns beside a cold, dead ecstasy. 



249 



BARRIERS. 



BARRIERS. 



Shadow thou art ; a (h'eam of my heart 

Forever l3eyond me. 

I may n<»t ])ress yon 

Close to my 1)reast; may not love and caress 

yon. 
The passionate glow 

Lighting' vonr e}'es "gainst }'our reason and will 
Sent through my l)eing an answering thrill, 
Transient and swift 
As light through a rift; 

Not until then could we measure the cost — ■ 
Eden forbidden, elysium lost. 



250 



TO THE OLD YEAR. 



TO THE OLD YEAR. 



How pri\'ileg"e(l are yon. Old Year, 
Behold, when life is throug-h. 

You change the reading- of your name 
And issue forth anew. 

The follies left within the past, 

Mistakes that you deplore, 
Are dead within their hidden o-raves. 

And visited no more. 

You snatch the rose from pleasure's bush 

Forgetting- where it grew ; 
You keep no cup when it is drained — 

Ah, how I envy you. 

New life comes swift on ijealing chimes 
With smiles of kindly fate, 

Lo. through the holy's m}\stic fire 
You are regenerate. 



251 



TO THE OLD YEAR. 



I would that I might leave, like you, 

This body, weak with age. 
And as a child begin again 



Upon an unsoiled page. 



252 



A CHILD OF NATURE. 



A CHILD OF NATURE. 



On the mountain's crest. 
Where the eagles nest, 

I rechne at ease, 
And my hps are kissed 
By the passing mist 

And the wanton breeze. 

Unrestrained I laugh 
As a draught I quaff 

From a rippling stream. 
And I feel the thrill 
Of unbridled will 

Like a sweet, wild dream. 

In the town off there 
In the sultry air 

Are the fools at work, 
And I drink their health 
In the torrent's wealth 

With a quip and quirk. 

253 



LIFE S MIRAGE. 



LIFE'S MIRAGE. 



^^'^thin my l)niise(l heart the night of Hfe 
Let down the s(iml)re curtain of the past 

Dull-leaded with (lesi)air : 
A\'ithin the g;rn\ and anihient s^loom 

Sat sullen sorrow ; 
The hlackest hour had conic when, lo. a lio-lit 
Illumined all the harren, arid waste 

And Hope stood tremhling there. 

I dared not trust: 1 dared not lift my head; 
In awe, I whispered, "What art thou?"" 

She said 

"I am the everlasting dawn 
Of life's to-morrow." 



254 



IN THE SHADY PLACES. 



IN THE SHADY PLACES. 



In the shady places. 

That the hand of man has not yet pollnted 

Where the right of way still lies undisputed 

\\'ith the speaking wild, 

I have listened long to the distant reapers 

As their cries come faint through the flow' ring 

creepers ; 
In the shady places. 

In the shady places 

I at times have knelt in m\- soul's disquiet 

With my blood aflame in tumultuous riot 

O'er a stinging wrong: 

And the silence, keen to the grief 1 smother, 

Calms my deep distress like a tender mother; 

In the shady places. 

in the shady places 

^\'here the fragrance, faint, from the moist 
earth rises 

255 



IN THE SHADY PLACES. 



And the winding- path hides its glad surprises 
Like a sportive child. 

There I turn my steps N\hen the world oppresses 
And I find the balm for my heart-distresses; 
In the shady places. 



256 



THE POETIC CHOIR. 



"THE POETIC CHOIR." 



They, jointly in the critic's comment share, 
Co-\vi)rking- lest oblivion swallow all, 
And stand together 'neath the wondering- sun 
Like se\'ered fractions that are brought to bear 
In entities uniting to make one, 

"Thus," each has dreamed; and, "thus," the 
dream was done, 

And, "thus," each praise to Eros has out- 
poured ; 

The theme is clear, although the text be dense, 

And needs no foot-notes where the burdens run, 

Unless annexed to palliate offense. 

Poor Muse ! \Mien will a song transcendent 

rise 
To drown the carping tra\-esties long borne, 
That shall with beauty hold the listener dumb 
And waft the winged w^ord that never dies? 
When will a Moses to thy bondage come? 



257 



LEST WE GROW TOO CONTENT. 



LEST WE GROW TOO CONTENT. 



Lest we grow too content. 

Lest the joys of the world make the pain of 

regretting 
To ]ea\'e it too keen, we have sorrows that, 

fretting 
Our souls with their cankerous gnawing, -AYe. 

g-iven 
Lest we grow too content. 

As the pendulum swings 

So our lives, e\'er pendent "twixt laughter and 

sorrow. 
Today swing in light and in darkness tomtjr- 

row ; 
The tears or the joys may be cut with the 

stroke 
As the pendulum swings. 



25S 



UNCERTAINTY. 



UNCERTAINTY. 



Where will you be ; in the midst of the throng- 
Close to the path that 1 traxcl along-. 

Or aside in the quiet 
Shunning- the echo of laughter and song.'' 

H(jw shall i kntnv you; b\- softl}" breathed 

word. 
Thrilling the depths of the heart that has 

heard, 
Or by some subtle power 
Potent as hope held in longings deferred? 

When we have met shall we bury these years. 
Dead 'neath the fl(wd of our penitent tears, 

And l)y tacit consenting 
Stifle the pain of our d<jubts and our fears? 

Where 1 now wander perhaps _\du abide; 
Or, you perhaps ma\- haxe passed at my side 

And have called in your passing; 
You mav haxe called, rmd I mav ha\'e denied. 



259 



FALLACIES. 



FALLACIES. 



We do the thing most foreign to our will, 
We rise in grief, and lay us down in pain, 
We crave the joy from whicli we must abstain 
And crush desires that would our being thrill; 
With fate we combat in unequal strife 
And call it life. 

We build a heaven where peace invites the 

soul ; 
And earthly dreams long merged in shad'wy 

wraith, 
Gain substance in proportion to our faith 
As, sanguine, we approach the final goal 
To greet each ardent hope with bated breath. 
And call it death. 



260 



REGENERATION. 



REGEiNERATION, 



I know not when it died, this love of mine. 
Its life slipped out S() quietl)- at last 
\\'hen all its fevered suffering was past 
And fate, full gently, cut the fretted thread. 
My grief was hushed as though by touch divine. 
And I could scarce believe that love was dead. 

Such pain it has endured and yet lived on ! 
It seemed that censure from unbridled will, 
Full with contempt, had lost the power to kill 
So long the pulse-throb beat with steady stroke. 
New crosses crushed the heart that tried anon 
To lift the v/eight and, in the effort, broke. 

Now love is dead what shall we do, my heart ; 
Kneel down within the shadow of our grief 
And beg' of heaven encompassing relief? 
Thus be it then — our joy was dearly bought. 
From this dead life we'll let a new life start. 
Grown wiser by the lesson we are taught. 



261 



HERE. AND THERE. 



HERE, AND THERE. 

To be over yonder wliere fresh from the 

grasses 
The fragrance blows softly o'er dew-laden 

hills, 
To catch the quick word of the wind as it 

passes 
And hear the low answer from murmuring rills, 
To feel the salt kiss of the neighboring ocean, 
To thrill to each pleasure that Nature can give, 
Ah, this is the acme of human emotion. 
Ah, this is to live. 

To know that the herald of day is o'erflushing 
The meadows that wake to the glow in the 

east, 
That every soft cloud in the heaven is blush- 
ing 
Like cheeks of a maid from a lover releast, 
To cage up the heart in a smoke-begirt city 
And strive, ever vainly, to stifle its cry. 
Ah, this is misfortune deserving of pity, 
Ah, this is to die. 



262 



WHERE ALL IS VANITY. 



WHERE ALL IS VANITY. 



How smiles the world where yesterday it 

frowned 
And spurns with disapproval ways and means 
By which we sought to have our efforts 

crowned. 

How smiles the world when we have found 

success, 
How servilely it seeks the master-hand 
When it has lost the grime of weariness. 

When lieights are gained, when over tortuous 

ways 
Yet trails the smoke of hourlv sacrifice, 
How trite seem plaudits and how^ empty praise. 

\\Miat voice that now approves but had as- 
sailed 
And cried its condemnation to the skies 
If chance had so decreed and we had failed ? 



263 



WHERE ALL IS VANITY. 



Where lies the joy to know, should fortune 

frown, 
That these who are the loudest in our praise 
Will be the tirst to rend and pull us down? 

Thrice blessed he, who, in some lonely spot 
Apart from ways and mockeries of men. 
Forgets the world and is, liy it, forgot. 



264 



A SPECTATOR. 



A SPECTATOR. 



Recalling all the sad, unfruitful years, 
The hopes long faded and the joys long dead, 
And pausing where the ghost of mem'ry leers 
I drink again the gall of useless tears. 

An empty life, as rayless as that doom 

Which dogs the unljeliever to ihe gra\-e. 

Or like those flowers that droop within the 

gloom 
To powdered dust on some neglected tomb ! 

One said to me : "My life has been as thine, 
"All aims were thwarted, motives misconstrued, 
"The cup held poison where I thought was 

wine; 
"I gathered stones where gems had seemed to 

shine 

"And had despaired, but voices seemed to say 
" 'The way of thy salvation lies in this, 



265 



A SPECTATOR. 



" 'Take up thy cross, and so, from day to day. 
*' 'Become more worthy of the hig-her way.' " 

Thus each man has his concepts to defend, 
Each, groping-, wraps about him s(^me Ijehef: 
On Hfe we each a serious int'rest l^end 
All fearful yet all hopeful for the end. 



266 



THE ELUSIVE. 



THE ELUSIVE. 



I am that hope held sacred at the start 

Of love's desire; 
I am that dream that fades, when dies 

Its smoldering lire. 

I am that sweet, evasive music heard 

Above the theme ; 
I am the soul, intangible. 

Of things that seem. 

I am that subtle longing most of all 

Misunderstood ; 
That joy men seek to hold within 

A jess and hood. 

Some bauble ever floats beyond the hand, 

For which man sighs; 
Some ignis fatuus ever lures. 

For which he dies. 



267 



THE ELUSIVE. 



Illusion all. No heart, that knows the full 

Of love most prized, 
But still, close-hidden, holds some dream 

Unrealized. 



268 



WITH LOVE AT YOUR SIDE. 



WITH LOVE AT YOUR SIDE. 



With love at yonr side. 

You steer your small craft 'gainst a pitiless 

tide, 
N'ou bra\-e ex'ery channel destructive and deep, 
And laugh as the breakers in impotence leap 
And liaffled, fall back. You can safely deride 
All impudent evil with love at vour side. 



With love at your side, 

'Jdie darkest and narrowest pathwav seems 

wide ; 
The sober old earth and the gray sky above 
Is warmed, and kept bright, by the sunshine of 

love. 
No efifort seems fruitless, no jov seems denied 
Who travels the world and has love at his 

side. 



269 



woman's destiny. 



WOMAN'S DESTINY. 



Man's heart's a vase and woman is the flower 
That sheds a fragrance through the passing 

honr ; 
She sees lo\'e turn to duty, illy done, 
Herself no longer wooed now she is won 
And destiny, in sullen mood, at last 
Conspire to write her name within the past. 

When youth and maid set out upon their way, 
'Jdieir faces turned toward the dawning day 
Of new born love, she striving to forget 
That o'er another's heart their lips have met — 
Some woman who, perchance, has heard his 

vow 
With soul as full of trust as hers is now — 
She stills the errant thought within her breast 
And seeks to stifle doubts but half confessed. 

When dawn no longer holds the tint of rose 
And morning into noon of passion grows, 



270 



woman's destiny. 



She muses on the times wlien he has kept 
Love's Hght alive in hearts now dead, unwept, 
And fearful lest she reach this common goal 
Close scans his face in bitterness of soul, 
Till in his glance morose, disconsolate, 
She reads the first prognostic of her fate. 

Poor, helpless woman, born to be undone, 
Butt of all evil, recognizing none; 
Men censure her for weakness out of hand 
Condemning in her that they most demand, 
Perforce she must pretend the thing she's not 
Until her soul rebels against her lot; 
She calls, but lo, the gulf of sex is wide. 
And she, a helpless bark upon its tide. 

Like restless beetles, on a summer's night. 
Turned from their pastimes by a fatal light. 
Are women, battering their better sense 
Against established laws of precedents ; 
Though they succeed and gain the thing they 

will 
What profit it? they're slaves to Nature still ; 
Idieir lot will be as it has ever been. 
To trust, to be deceived, to trust again. 



271 



YOU WHO LOVE ME. 



YOU WHO LOVE ME. 



You who love me, let nie know it. 
Let your smiles and hand-clasps show it. 
Be not meager in }'()nr giving, 
Kindness makes our lives worth living, 
Youth is sweet and old age melknv 
Cheered hx words of some good fellow. 

Wait not till the grave has bound me 
Ere ^•ou place your gifts around me. 
Little will T reck of weeping 
Wdien chill death is vigil keeping; 
So, while skies are bright alcove me. 
Here's to those who show thev love me. 



272 



EARTH-LOVK. 



EARTH-LOVE. 



"Tis not the saddest thing 
That we must one day lay tlie volume down, 
Its page unfinished and its aim unguessed; 
The saddest thing is not Fate's sudden frown, 
And not the loss of something that has blessed; 
'Tis not the leaving- of some love long known. 
Nor yet the dreams that ha\e familiar grown 
And not within the grave is held the sting, 
But in the thought that this fair earth will lie 
To-morrow and t(i-morrow 'neath the sky, 
As fair as now, indifferent to our loss. 
Sore need have we of faith to l)ear such cross. 
That ways well lo\ed shall smile for us no more 
And yet remain in beauty as before — 
This were the saddest thing. 



273 



A DAY DREAM. 



A DAY DREAM. 



Over yonder near the shore-line there's a sea- 
gull slowly flying-, 

Drifting gently on the bosom of the land 
breeze from the hills, 

And he steeps within its fragrance all his 
senses, none denying. 

Till his brain is strangely heavy and his bosom 
sweetly thrills. 

Over yonder near the shore-line I, in fancy, 
see the luster 

Of the ardent sunshine streaming on the hills 
serene, and brown. 

And my vagrant heart is resting where the red- 
woods thickly cluster. 

While my body lingers, helpless, in the smoke- 
encircled town. 



274 



A DAY DREAM. 



I've a fervid, wanton longing for a spot I know 

out yonder, 
'Tis a little sun-kissed picture that I paint 

when world-oppressed, 
And I dream that I through fragrance of a 

phantom garden wander 
Where, in fancy, I've a cabin and, in fancy, 

am at rest. 



275 



QUATRAINS. 



OUATRAINS. 



Li\e not within the past; compute the cost 
Then Ijurn, without regret, the Ijridges crussed. 
Sweet yesterday ! .V diamond past all price 
That slip[)ed fr(jm out its setting- and is lost. 

What one had plucked the rose if he had seen 
The thorns concealed Ijeneath its tender green? 
What tears were saved if forecast could be 

made — 
Tears would be saved, but lostthejoysbetween. 

Hold no regret; what has been done, is done. 
Nor all the waters that to oceans run 
Shall blot the folly from a single act 
O'erfraught with consequences we would shun. 

Quench not the flame because vou feel the fire: 
Fear not to \'oice in |)raver to-dav's desire 
Because the answer praver of yesterda\' 
Exposed the dross to which you would aspire. 



270 



QUATRAINS. 



Be not too proud in virtue yet untried, 
Chance may discover flaws that good deeds 

hide, 
And many a prude a wanton's heart has housed 
Yet Hved in virtue and in virtue died. 

Before great Midas men as slaves kneel down 
To cry him perfect; but, let fortune frown 
Lo, all turn scoffers where they lately praised 
And see but ass's ears upon a clown. 

How prized is gift of wit with which to lead 
And foresight to discern the prurient need; 
But prestige oft sits throned on emptiness. 
The way of conquest is where vultures feed. 

Lift one above the welter of the sty. 

Drag one to dross of earth from out the sky, 

Eacli still himself remains through change of 

time 
Proclaimed by earmarks ye shall know him by. 

Who thinks that wealth lies in the vein of gold, 
And power within the royal ermine's fold, 
A child is who has heard the mother's voice 
But missed the meaning of the story told. 



277 



QUATRAINS. 



Think not to shirk the prol)lenis writ of fate, 
Apportioned lal)ors leng-then 1)y debate. 
Heaven tolerates no shii^-oard who has held 
The lesson of his life too intricate. 



27S 



TO MY MOTHER. 



TO MY ^rOTTTKR. 

\\>re all the o-enis whose l)rillianl luster vies 
With starry clusters of the changing skies 
Brought forth as setting for thy perfect grace 
Still would outshine the glory of thy face. 

If all the prayers that earnest hearts have sped 

To guide the living or repose the dead 

Be reckoned holy in eternal hliss 

Still must thy goodness o\'ershado\v this. 

Thv patience and forhearance are the light 
That hnds me stumhling through the ])athless 

night ; 
When all seems lost to me I have th}- aid — 
So much I need thee, whom thy love hath 

made ! 

Thy leaves of life may turn from page to page 
At last to hold the imprint of old age 
Yet still wilt thou he heautiful to me; 
Thyself I love, not this that all men see. 



279 



TO MY MOTHER. 



And could all song-s that happy lips have sung 
Of joys from which true happiness has sprung 
Be g-athered here, dear one, they would not be 
So sweet as songs that thou hast sung to me. 



v.sa 



THE GHOST CITY. 



THE GHOST CITY. 



Beneath a shroud of ashen gray it Hes 
As ghostly still as rose that fateful dawn 
Which shrunk to wake the day's o'erl^ending 
skies. 

Small whirls of powd'ry dust lift now and then 
In silent eddies from its pulseless heart, 
Then, awed l)y their own motion, sink again. 

Great arms, that scorn the shroud, rise gaunt 

and bare 
Unsteady swaying in the fitful breeze ; 
Strange flutt'rings, born of nothing, stir the air. 

Dark, threat'ning forms start up as if in fright 
At one another; things familiar once 
Lie desolate and strange beneath the light. 

But when the mercy of the night has thrown 
A veil across the pleading, tortured face 
'Tis then the well-beloved claims her own. 



281 



THE GHOST CITY. 



Then life is seen and all her ways of mirth 
Give happ}' greeting; pilgrims from afar 
Come back in dream to each familiar hearth. 

All follow where their inclinations bend, 
All find their joy; no menace rears its head 
To hnsh the word where friend would speak 
with friend. 

Some leave the throng to seek the favored spot 
They, only, know ; within its sacred calm 
The glare upon the night sky is forgot. 

O, broken City ! Men may leave no trace 
To tell the tale of beauty that has been ; 
And though they set a better in thy place 

And though they write thy fall in chiseled stone 
'Twill not avail ; supreme in loyal hearts 
Forever and forever — thou alone. 

And thou shalt put aside all hind'ring bars 
And rise again to ease the yearning- cry 
Of watchers dreamino- late beneath the stars. 



282 



THE CALL OF THE LORELEI. 



THE CALL OF THE LORELEL 



When the lessening Hght in her cr\stal ca\-e 
Speaks the time <>t the snnset's glow. 

Then the mermaiden ccmes on a cnrling wave 
h'roni the cool of the depths below. 

In her eyes slee|)s the fire that is caught from 
skies 
As the}' speak in the lightning's glare. 
And the dusk of the threatening storm-cloud 
lies 
In the coil of her wind-blown hair. 

To the calm of a sheltering co\ e she drifts 
And the sleep of the cliffs is stirred 

By her call to the far-away sail that lifts 
Like the wing of a frightened l)ird. 

And it's woe to the ship if it swerves or starts, 
And it's woe to the soul that hears, 



283 



THE CALL OF THE LORELEI. 



For the mermaiden's couch is of grieving 
hearts, 
And her cave is of crystal tears. 

And the sweep of the reef where the seas 
upraise 
From the wrecks and the bleaching bones, 
Holds the passionate song of her fulsome 
praise 
For the work of its jagged cones. 



2S4 



BENEDICTION. 



BENEDICTION. 



If I may speak the soothing word 

To them that grieve, 
If I may check the sigh that's heard 

When hopes deceive, 
If I may raise some guiding Hght 
For pilgrims lost within the night 
And teach those hearts by sorrow stirred 

To still believe; 
If, when the sadness of each face 

To smiles is grown, 
I may be giv'n some sheltered place 

To hide my own 
Where friends that come will leave unguessed 
That any grief has touched my breast, 
'Twill bring me peace to light that space 
Beneath my stone. 



285 



TO YOU. 



TO YOU. 



I work and struggle and with pain gr(j\v blind, 
Endure ni}' longings and my secret fears, 
Bear patiently with erring human kind 
And teach my heart a tenderness which years 
Of suffering had hardened. Ere you came 
1 hated all my fellows, and the name 
Of living thing upon man's lips to me 
Was food for caustic, sour soliloquy. 
Now all is changed; from out the portal bright 
Of some fair hea\'en you stole to shed the light 
Of better thoughts around me : all the l)liss 
And rapture of a life were in \dur kiss, 
And yet withal a mystic yearning too 
Which ever, lo\e. will hold me close to you. 
And had I come to ni)- last hour to live 
This ])riceless l)oon I'd ask the gods to give. 
To hold you close to my enraptured breast, 
To feel your lips to mine in passion pressed, 
To have your arms around my form entwine. 
Forget the world and know you wholly mine. 



286 



FEALTY. 



FEALTY. 



Not him who pampers me may I call friend ; 
Not him who would my weaknesses defend ; 
Nor who repeats with saponaceous tongue 
To lull ambition, praise that has been sung; 
But one who drives me with unyielding show 
Along the path he knows that I should go, 
Who takes from thirsting lips bright Pleasure's 

cup 
And ever prods my slothful nature up. 
To such a one complainingly I bend 
But still acknowledge him my faithful friend. 



287 



THE NEGLECTED LUTE. 



THE NEGLECTED LUTE. 



A moldering casement's twilight chill where 

shivering ivy clings 
Now holds the silence where a song once 

thrilled the vihrant strings. 
Long, long ago an idle hand waked one unwill- 
ing tone 
That now the far-off sea repeats in low, 

undying moan ; 
An east wind spoke its sad complaint when 

chafed its stinging blight 
And whispered to a nightingale that told the 

listening night. 
No singing, sun-kissed sound of earth now 

warms the deepening chill. 
No passing breeze, however glad, finds one 

responsive thrill ; 
xAll mute it lies, each straining discord hushed 

in gathering rust, 
The twisted strings confused and dead beneath 

decav and dust, 



2S8 



THE NEGLECTED LUTE. 



But had some kindly thought been born to 

Hght the lonely space 
Or had some breath of gladsome ways filled up 

the empty place 
Then had the lute found out that song which 

joy forever sings 
And it had ever blessed the hand that woke 

the silent strings. 



289 



CARMEL. 



CARMEL. 



Engemmed l^etween the hills and bright blue 

sea 
It stands forsaken, lonelv and alone; 
Arch, wall and cloister rising stone on stone 
Piled up in S}ml)ol of eternity. 

Deep quiet broods on wooded knoll and plain; 
The very lichen where it clini1)s and clings 
Seems listless as do all surrounding things 
That thus beneath a century's sun have lain. 



Near by a river murmurs through the brake 
Whose reminiscent whispers touch the ear, 
Of those attuned in true desire to hear, 
With echoes that the ages stir and wake. 

And dusky forms, and cowled heads once more 
Bend side by side in labor through the fields — 
W^ith humble thanks for that which each day 

yields 
Each bends the knee within the mission door. 



290 



CARMEL. 



And o'er the valley, still, contentment breathes 
In blowing rose or heavy tasseled stocks, 
In nesting- birds, in meek-eyed grazing flocks. 
Or in the lazy mists the ocean wreathes. 

Here shall the spirit of the past hold swav. 
Here shall the mission drowsing bv the sea 
Speak to the restless soul its mystery 
And show the beauty of the strifeless way. 



291 



WITH YOU TO SHOW THE WAY. 



WITH YOU TO SHOW THE WAY. 



With yon to show the way, 

To break the path and make it clear of thorns, 

To help bewildered reason to the light, 

To set, and guide, pour blundering feet aright. 

With yon as pilot, over any sea 

Not known before, the course would easy be ; 

The world seems filled with naught but what 

adorns. 
With you to show the way. 

With you to show the way 

How helpless and dependent have I grown ; 

I fear to venture lest I stray afar 

And, wandering back to paths where sorrows 

are. 
Again l)e lost within their Stygian gloom. 
What weave the Fates upon their shadowy 

loom ? 
Alnst I, in some dread hour, walk on alone, 
With none to show the way? 



292 



WITH YOU TO SHOW THE WAY. 



How, then, will seem the way? 

The tiuwers will all be dead, the birds all dumb; 

The well-loved paths, close-hidden from the 

throng-, 
^^'ill all repeat my dead heart's funeral song. 
I could not bear to look on things once 

shared — 
One may not go and leave the other s]iared, 
So, tarry but a little till I come 
And show me, still, the way. 



293 



JUN 19 190? 



